17 August 2011

Don Quixote - Kirov Ballet @ ROH, Wednesday 3rd August 2011

Synopsis:
Driven by the vision of his ideal woman Dulcinea, the aging knight Don Quixote begins his adventures with his trusty squire Sancho Panza in tow.

Kitri, only daughter of Lorenzo, the village innkeeper, is in love with Basilio, the village barber.  Much to her chagrin, she learns of her father's plans to marry her to Gamache, a foppish nobleman. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza enter the village, causing great commotion. Noticing Kitri, Don Quixote wonders if he has, at last, found his Dulcinea. At the height of merriment, Kitri and Basilio, aided by their friends, Espada the toreador and Mercedes, sneak off followed by Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Gamache and Lorenzo attempt to pursue the young couple.

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza discover the fleeing couple hiding in a friendly gypsy camp. All are inspired by the romance of the night. As the vision of Dulcinea appears to him, Don Quixote realizes Kitri is not his "ideal", but indeed belongs with Basilio. Suddenly the wind gains momentum. Don Quixote foolishly attacks a windmill, believing it to be a giant threatening Dulcinea's safety. Caught up by one of its sails, he is thrown to the ground. Near death, Don Quixote has an enchanted dream of beautiful maidens in which the image of Kitri symbolizes his Dulcinea.

At sunrise, Lorenzo and Gamache manage to revive Don Quixtote. Sympathetic to the plight of the young lovers, the attempts to lead Lorenzo and Gamache astray.
Finally discovered, Kitri is forced by Lorenzo to accept the attentions of Gamache. The thwarted Basilio pretends to stab himself and Kitri implores Don Quixote to persuade Lorenzo to wed her to the "dying man” Instantly Basilio is restored to health! Triumphantly, Kitri leaves to prepare for marriage while Don Quixote and Basilio salute Lorenzo and Gamache for stoically accepting the inevitable.
The village celebrates the marriage. Don Quixote congratulates the couple, bids them a warm farewell, and resumes his ever-lasting adventures.
Cast:
Don Quixote – Vladimir Ponomarev
Sancho Panza – Stansilav Burov
Kitri – Yevgenia Obratztsova
Basil – Andrei Timofeev
Gamache – Solslan Kulave
Espada – Karen Ioanissiyan
Mercedes – Anastasia Petushkova
Queen of the Dryads – Ekaterina Kondaurova

Creative Team:
Music – Ludwig Minkus
Choreography – Alexander Gorsky, Nina Anisimova, Fyodor Lopukov
Design – Alexander Golovin, Konstantin Korovin
Sets recreated by – Mikhail Shishlinanikov
Costumes – Konstantin Korovin

Again, this review is being written a while after the event for various reasons, so its necessarily cobbled together from memory. Apologies for this!

As other reviewers have pointed out, Don Quixote is, more or less, a plotless ballet, so there’s not much to do as regards concentrating on a plot. You just have to sit there and let it all wash over you. Basically, the ballet is just a bit of an excuse for pretty costumes and a lot of enthusiastic dancing in a vaguely Spanish style. We “saw” the Marinsky perform this version of the ballet a few years back, but thanks to some rather strange seats in the slips (at stage level but tucked off right at the side, could only actually see about a third of the actual stage) so it was nice to see what we had missed last time! We actually managed to see a lot more this time round, thanks to Him Indoors’ impulsive purchase of a pair of binoculars in Suffolk a couple of weeks ago – even from the very back row of the upper circle, I was able to see costumes, facial expressions and footwork in incredible detail and it was just like having your own private performance as a result. Nice – we must do it more often.

There is a slight air of somewhat faded elegance about the Marinksy productions, I find – almost as if the weight of history presses heavily on the company. This was most evident in the scenery, which was scrappy and thin, and really didn’t do the production any justice at all. I suppose that when you are touring 10 individual ballets, the costumes take priority in the cargo containers and the scenery has to be whittled down as a result. Some of it seemed to have been left behind on the jetty completely – the prologue to this ballet is usually set in Don Quixote’s cottage but here it was simply played out against a black backdrop. There is, however, no excuse for paring down the ballet itself – other productions I’ve seen have been far more detailed in the storytelling and characterisation, and I desperately missed all those little touches that would have fleshed the story out a bit. I also thought there was far too much “panto” – characters such as Sancho Panza and Lorenzo were overplayed well past the point of caricature. I suppose when you have to get the essence of a character over to the poor buggers sitting right at the back of an enormous theatre, some overplaying is acceptable, but I am convinced that Sancho Panza went right through the back wall and out into Covent Garden itself, if not Trafalgar Square.
I felt particularly sorry for the “hired in extras” who had been brought in to decorate the set and do nothing else but sit there all evening at the back of the stage. On second thoughts, however, perhaps I should feel envious of them – not only did they have a ringside seat but they were getting paid for it! And I suppose they could put on their CV that they “…played Don Estelle in the Marinsky Ballet’s production of Don Quixote”. Their placing on set was a bit strange; although for most of the evening they were reasonably well incorporated into the scene, in the final scene they were all plonked in a straight line right in the middle of the set where they looked very uncomfortable indeed, having to do “ballet arms” every time one of the principals approached. Watch old productions of something like Swan Lake and you’ll see many examples of this awfully outdated practice in the castle scenes – every time someone approaches, all the corps have to raise an arm in the direction of their approach and it looks very silly, very dated and very, very artificial.

Andrei Timofeev seemed rather miscast as Basil – when did you last see a blonde Spanish man? He also seemed somewhat slightly built and was completely outdanced by Yevgenia Obratzsova’s spirited and passionate Kitri. ”. I also thought Karen Ioannissiyan’s Espada was a little underpowered – it’s the plum role of the sexy, hypermasculine matador and needs to burn up the stage. But it didn’t. I completely failed to see the point of Maria Shevyakova’s Eastern Dance (which basically consisted of a lot of sinuous arm waving and not very much else) – it looked horribly like she had got her dates mixed up and had been expecting to do La Bayadere instead. By the time someone had thought to tell her, she must have thought “Bugger it – I’ve spent an hour warming up my arms and I’ve put all this make-up on so I might just as well go on and be a “Spesh Act”, because there’s nothing on the TV tonight and I can sit in the dressing room and bum some fags off the corps de ballet afterwards”.

Anyway, it was an enthusiastically received performance, the auditorium was bulging at the seams and everyone had a good time. I enjoyed peering through the binoculars at the costumes (unusually, all the corps costumes were individually designed, rather than being uniform, and this extra effort really paid off well visually, making it a treat to look at), but didn’t really see quite how £25 a seat could be justified when, on a dockside somewhere in Russia there are some enormous boxes marked “Scenery for Don Quixote”.

11 August 2011

Anne Boleyn - Shakespeare's Globe, Thursday 28th July 2011

Synopsis:
Hunting through an old chest, the newly crowned James I discovers the controversial legacy of Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII’s notorious second wife -  a copy of the Bible, translated into English.   Time jumps back 70 years, when the witty and flirtatious Anne was in love with Henry, but also with the most dangerous ideas of her day. Conspiring with the exiled William Tyndale, she plots to make England a Protestant country – forever.

Cast:
Michael Bertenshaw - Robert Cecil
Sam Cox - Dean Lancelot Andrewes
Naomi Cranston - Lady Jane Seymour
Ben Deery - George Villiers/Countryman
Mary Doherty - Lady Celia/Countrywoman
Julius D'Silva - Thomas Cromwell
Sophie Duval - Lady Rochford
James Garnon - King James I
Peter Hamilton Dyer - William Tyndale/Divine
Anthony Howell - King Henry VIII
Colin Hurle- Cardinal Wolsey/Henry Barrow
Miranda Raison - Anne Boleyn
Dickon Tyrrell -Dr. John Reynolds

Creative team:
Written by - Howard Brenton
Director - John Dove
Designer - Michael Taylor
Composer - William Lyons

This is being written a couple of weeks after the event – things have been getting behind at RTR Towers what with all the riots outside in the street, and that’s just the Guildhall students burning effigies of me.

Know the saying “Be careful what you wish for – you might get it”? Well, I came away feeling that I should have listened. I pressed hard to go and see this at the Globe during its first run, and never got to see it. This time round I was taken after some very superior nagging on my part and have to say that I came away feeling that I really shouldn’t have bothered. Such is life eh?

I admit that I have a few problems with The Globe. Its always packed with tourists looking for yer acktual Shakespeeeerien experiunce, innit guv. Most of them haven’t really done their homework beforehand, and don’t realise what an uncomfortable experience it can be physically, standing in the sun for over two hours or wedged onto benches that aren’t terribly coccyx-friendly. There’s little scenery and no spectacular effects, and if they are bored teenagers then its not long before the novelty wears off and they start getting fidgety and start digging in their rucksacks for their iPhone. The stewards always put my back up as well – between the entrance to the theatre and our seats, we had our tickets checked three separate times. Well, I say “we” – I got separated from Him Indoors and the tickets on the way in so there were a series of increasingly terse exchanges between myself and the burgundy-tabarded Guardians of the Inner Sanctum. Then we found that our “restricted view” seats were slap bang behind one of the enormous pillars holding the stage gallery up, and it didn’t help a bit that the majority of the direction put people bang front and centrestage where we could neither see nor hear them (one of the major problems with The Globe is that very few modern actors know how to play a) in the open air and b) to an audience spread out round ¾ of a circle and at wildly differing levels. Very few modern directors can cope with this either – I suggest that during a dress rehearsal they move around the auditorium to check sightlines and audibility). And then I found that the play wasn’t quite what I was expecting it to be.

Far from being a cosy re-telling of the Anne Boleyn story we all know and love – boy meets girl, boy has shedload of trouble getting a divorce, girl loses her head entirely – Anne Boleyn takes you backwards and forwards in time, investigating the religious problems the situation caused and – more or less – sidelining the more familiar bits. This makes the story considerably more difficult to follow and far more of an intellectual exercise than I think most of the audience were expecting. Not that I’m complaining about being made to think in the theatre but, as I’ve said somewhere before, if you don’t know much about the historical background, it can get very confusing and a lot of people are likely to switch off. I admit that my interest started to wane quite quickly (problems with audibility really didn’t help) but I gave it a good shot and my investment was repaid eventually after the interval, when for me the play really started to come into its own. This really is a play where, to get the most out of the experience, you need to read the programme notes from cover to cover first, do a bit of research on the internet and then see the play.

It doesn’t help either when your leading lady is not terribly sympathetic, and physically wrong for the part. I don’t mean the character of Anne is unsympathetic; far from it. Even though Anne was a scheming little minx who thoroughly deserved all she got (I always maintain that its Katherine of Aragon we should reserve our sympathy for), she makes a terrific character on stage or screen. She’s the baddy we all love to hate – dark, sexy, dangerously charming, highly intelligent, manipulative and out to get as many diamonds as she can lay her manicured little mitts on while keeping uber-stud Henry at groaning point (even Disney couldn’t have created a better villain). Even the programme notes describe her as “Nobody’s fool”. In short, she knew what she was doing until Fate moved some chessmen in unexpected ways and the whole shebang started to unravel. Miranda Raison, however, is gangly and somewhat plain, plays Anne as a slightly screechy jolly-hockeysticks type and is glaringly blonde. I thought she showed very little of Anne’s manipulative charm and wondered what Anthony Howell’s gorgeous and appropriately leonine Henry VIII could ever have seen in her The whole story falls apart if the portrayal of Anne is underpowered. Unfortunately one feels that with Anne the author has his own particular axe to grind, seeking to recast her as the Heroine of English Religious Reform – a slightly dodgy premise however you view it – against All Those Nasty Catholics. To bolster this, Brenton writes Cardinal Wolsey as a tub-thumping, sweaty proselytiser and Colin Hurley’s portrayal took this and swerved dangerously close to outright caricature with it. We are asked to swallow the idea that Anne can creep off into the woods around Hampton Court for a couple of meetings with the reformer William Tyndale (played by Peter Hamilton Dyer as an avuncular and faintly God-like presence). Tyndale was banished from England for what Henry and Cromwell considered to be his heretical translation of the Bible and was lucky to retain his head and his innards, yet for “banished” Brenton has substituted “Hidden In The Woods With A Troupe of Extramural Merrie Men Wearing Green Cloaks And Floppy Hats”. I’m finding it difficult here to extricate the faults of the play itself from the actual production. It happens sometimes so you will just have to bear with me. I also found it rather difficult to find Sophie Duval’s Lady Rochford as she seemed unconvincing and slightly too shrewish.

The “framing device” of King James’ finding of Anne’s copy of Tyndale’s Bible (which didn’t Lay in the House that Jack Built, despite how it sounds) was an interesting one. James Garnon’s James I was played just on the wrong side of caricature for me with far too much obvious playing for laughs. Campery is always a sure winner with the groundlings, and usually good for a chortle from the galleries but it can be overdone, both in the writing and the playing. Ben Deery was born to play his Love Interest George Villiers and I came away musing over the possibilities of a porn film called “Pretty Boys in Doublet and Hose”, say no more.

I was ashamed to find out on the way back to the station that The Globe isn’t actually built on the site of the original as I had thought, which is now home to a small block of flats of no architectural merit whatsoever. I would have loved to have hung around in the courtyard, shut my eyes and felt, but no, no time to dawdle, train to catch, hurry up, oooh look here’s some crab claws for sale in Borough Market, lets inspect these for 20 minutes. As I said, such is life.

What the critics thought:
 
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/theatre/theatre-reviews/7916733/Anne-Boleyn-Shakespeares-Globe-review.html
 
http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/2010/jul/29/anne-boleyn-review
 
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/theatre-dance/reviews/anne-boleyn-shakespeares-globe-london-2041056.html
 
 
http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/tls_selections/article7164896.ece
 
 

29 July 2011

Once more into the breach......

An article appeared in today's Guardian online by Michael Billington regarding the nature of criticism.  One idiot, obviously still smarting from my review of Kiss Me, Kate, took it upon themselves to publish a link to this blog in the "comments" section. This resulted in several Guildhall students, and others, who had not previously been aware of my review, barraging me with vicious comments once again.

As a result, commenting on this blog is disabled (again) until people stop throwing toys out of prams. 

I repeat - if you cannot hack criticism, what on earth are you doing entering a profession where your every move will be subject to it? 

*sheesh*

27 July 2011

The Beauty Queen of Leenane - The Young Vic, Monday 25th July 2011

Synopsis:
Maureen, a middle‐aged spinster, lives with her elderly, manipulative mother Mag. in a remote cottage in Leenane, Connemara.  Maureen’s sisters have flown the nest, escaping the drab family home, but Maureen, who has a history of mental illness, remains at home, trapped in a dysfunctional relationship with her mother.

The arrival of an invitation sparks hopes of a last‐chance romance and offers Maureen the prospect of an escape to a new life. Things might just be looking up for her…but not if the interfering Mag has anything to do with it.
Cast:

Maureen Folan – Derbhle Crotty
Mag Folan, her mother – Rosaleen Linehan
Pato Dooley – Frank Laverty
Ray Dooley, his brother – Johnny Ward

Creative Team:
Written by – Martin McDonagh
Direction – Joe Hill-Gibbin
Designer – Ultz
Lighting – Charles Balfour
Sound – Paul Arditti

Well, I haven’t had such a good time at the theatre in a long while. I’m going to try and not spoil the plot for you, because you really, really must phone the Young Vic and offer to sell your grandparents in exchange for a ticket. All I am going to say is that The Beauty Queen of Leenane is one of those plays which you think is going to be extremely straightforward, but which leads you very firmly by the hand up the garden path and then spins you round and pushes you into a ditch. You stagger out, continue up the path and arrive at the door, only to have the mat pulled out from underneath your feet. And then, having apologised profusely, welcomed you into the house and offered you a towel, the play then hits you round the back of the head with a saucepan. And runs away laughing. What appears to be a straightforward little play, in which the happiness of the lead character is all you hope for, comes all over Agatha Christie and starts throwing unexpected plot developments in your way. You know what you want to happen, you think you know what will happen – and then you sit there peering through your fingers muttering “Don’t answer the door – I know who’s going to come through it”. And they don’t, dammit. This is about 20 minutes after you have been lulled into a false sense of security by having something happen on stage that is utterly predictable the minute you see it coming. I got so wrapped up in the action it was as much as I could do not to start shouting out advice to the characters. Its soooooo clever – and if the seats at the Young Vic weren’t so damned uncomfortable anyway you’d be spending most of the evening perched on the edge. It’s a rare thing that gets members of the audience talking to the people next to them in the interval about what they think is going to happen and how, or discussing the plot twists on the way out.

The set is simple, yet extremely effective, and you’re given the usual Young Vic “total experience” by walking into the auditorium to the sight and sound of rain falling lightly yet incessantly down sheets of taut plastic stretched from floor to ceiling (which also gives the place an authentic Irish Croft kind of chill). For some time, I even thought the theatre were piping in the smell of slightly stale beer as well, until I realised that the woman sitting next to me was holding a glass of it. We had a good laugh about this in the interval, and we both agreed it should be suggested to the theatre management for next time (we could have had the whiff of fried noodles for The Good Soul of Schezuan, manky straw for [The] Government Inspector and perhaps warm cattle dung for Annie Get Your Gun).

It would be invidious to give out “acting honours” for the three main leads as they were all so perfectly cast. Derbhle Crotty (which sounds like something you need to rub ointment into before going to bed) tends to walk away with them, because the audience are all rooting for her so much. Rosaleen Linehan makes a formidable Mag, alternately vicious and sympathetic (watch her eyes closely during her first scene after the interval – that’s classy acting) and Frank Laverty gives such a perfectly judged performance that his Act 2 opening monologue deserved – and indeed got – a round of applause. In fact, by the time Act 1 was half over, people were applauding each individual scene, which I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. And its well deserved, believe me. And there was at least one Silence, if not two*. Johnny Ward is fine as Ray, but I think needs to settle down into the role slightly because there was just a touch too much of Dougal from Father Ted for my liking. It doesn’t help that he is never given a chance to be serious – all his scenes are slightly off the wall verbal sparring and one-liners.

Anyway, it was a grand night and one I enjoyed immensely. Go get your tickets now because a) its going to be sold out and b) you’ll come out afterwards talking to people you don’t know about what you’ve just seen.  And you'll never look at your chip pan with quite the same eyes again. 


* For those of you relatively new to this blog, a “Silence” isn’t when the audience is just quiet. Its when the audience is so wrapped up in what is happening on stage that there is a complete absence of sound. Not a cough, not a fidget, nothing. I’ve variously described it in the past as the sound of the entire audience collectively holding its breath, or the sound that black velvet would make if it could.

What the critics thought:





10 July 2011

Kiss Me, Kate - Guildhall School of Music and Drama, Thursday 7th July 2011

Synopsis:

A  theatrical troupe is presenting Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew in Baltimore, Maryland. The cast includes Fred Graham and his former wife, Lilli; also Bill Calhoun, an irresponsible gambler, and the girl whom he is interested in, Lois Lane. Bill breaks down and confesses to Lois that he is involved with gangsters, who have his I.O.U. for $10,000 from a game of cards. Bill, however, has signed it in the name of Fred Graham. This is not the first time Lois has had to tolerate Bill's escapades, and she inquires poignantly why he cannot behave himself. Meanwhile Fred and Lilli begin to realize that their one-time tender feelings for each other have not completely died out. They start to reminisce about the shows in which they appeared, including an old-fashioned Viennese operetta. Just before the opening night of The Taming of the Shrew, Fred sends flowers to Lois. By mistake they come to Lilli's dressing room - further proof (she thinks)  that Fred still loves her. She now openly reveals that that love is reciprocated.

On stage, the performance of The Taming of the Shrew is taking place.  As a play within a play, we learn that Bianca cannot get married until her older sister, Katherine, has found a husband. When Petruchio arrives in Padua to seek out a rich wife  he is chosen for Katherine. She, (the Shrew of the title), makes no attempt to conceal her feelings about men while Petruchio knows that Katherine is not the woman of his dreams. Nevertheless, he agrees to marry her.
We are now transferred from Shakespeare's Padua back to the intrigues within the theatrical company. Having learned that Fred's flowers were meant for Lois, Lilli bursts into a fit of temper, and announces hotly that she is leaving the company for good. Her departure, however, is delayed by the arrival of gangsters coming to collect from Bill the $10,000 for his I.O.U. As it has Fred's name on it, they pursue him for the money, but, he says, if Lilli leaves the company, the show cannot continue and he will be unable to give them the money.  To ensure that neither Fred nor Lilli leave until the money is paid, the gangsters become part of the show and accompany its two principals everywhere on stage during the performance.
In the second act we return to The Taming of the Shrew. Petruchio and Katherine are now man and wife. Since her violent tempers and caprices are complicating Petruchio's life to no end, he begins to recall nostalgically his single-blessedness Backstage, when Bill reprimands Lois for flirting with one of the actors, she makes light of her tendency to be fickle. But, for all his troubles with Lois, Bill has good cause for cheer. There has been a violent shake-up in the gangster world, as a result of which the I.O.U. is no longer valid. Bill and Lois are now reconciled, and Katherine and Fred return to each other.
Cast:
Lilli Vannessi/Kate – Alex Chatworthy
Fred Graham/Petruchio – Alex Knox
Lois Lane/Bianca – Kae Alexander
Bill/Lucentio – Joshua Miles
Gangster – Lewis Goody
Gangster – Stephen Wilson
Hattie – Mabel Clements
General Harrison – Kingsley Ben-Adir
Harry/Baptista – Josh Hart
Hortensio – Karl Brown
Gremio – Thomas Clegg

Creative Team:
Music and lyrics – Cole Porter
Book – Bella and Sam Spewack
Director – Martin Connor
Choreographer – Joseph Pitcher
Designer – Mark Bailey

Hurrah, a musical! Just when I was beginning to lose all hope (ironically, one based round a Shakespeare play), and a good one too, by more or less the same creative team as last year’s Curtains! Once again, it’s a “money no object” production as the mighty coffers of practically all the big London professional guilds drain into Guildhall School of Music and Drama’s bank account – there have been six months of rehearsals, 26 musicians in the pit and more backstage crew than you can shake a stick at, all of whom will soon be making their way into the big, frightening and expensive world backed up by Mummie and Daddies’ Trust Fund. For some, the big time beckons, for others it will be Casualty, and for a good few, life will be spent struggling to keep up with the demand for double-decaff-skinny-latte orders or spitting in the food of those who don’t leave a decent tip.
Like last year, there are slick production values, good scenery, great costumes and loads of bodies on stage, supplemented by a fair few from the singing courses. This year, however, its more difficult to pick out those who are not the natural stage animals, although there is the obligatory tubby guy in a horrendous costume beaming all over his face and having the time of his life as he hits his top notes and struggles to keep up with the choreography. What larks! How wonderful this week will be to look back on as he toils away the years as the assistant accountant for an agent, adding up all those lovely ten-per-cents that his erstwhile friends are racking up for his boss.
The trouble is that Kiss Me, Kate (note the comma, which for some reason is missing from the front cover and cast list page of the programme) needs a male lead with a few years under his belt. Fred Graham needs to be a world-weary, slightly washed up actor, anxiously scanning for crow’s feet and trying to hold age and an expanding waistline at bay with crimson lake and a tightly hitched corset under his costume. Alex Knox, although admittedly young and pretty, plays it young and pretty as well. For all his swagger, its like watching an ingĂ©nue making his first stab at King Lear. And he’s a tenor, for chrissakes; Fred Graham is a bass-baritone role (it was one of Howard Keel’s greatest screen roles). Although I enjoyed his performance throughout, Fred/Petruchio is not his role. Yet. Give it another 20 years and then we’ll see. Alex Chatworthy, however, manages to convey Lilli’s faded edges convincingly, does a great line in tired sarcasm, seems familiar with the bitterness of disappointment and yet looks astonishingly like a very young Jodie Foster. Her Lilli seems somehow much older than Knox’s Fred. Kae Alexander lands the plum ingĂ©nue role of Lois Lane and has a great time being irritatingly perky all evening, although quite what she sees in Joshua Miles’ rather dreary Bill is beyond me. Of the two gangsters, Stephen Wilson (in what is nominally the lesser role of the two) is by far the most entertaining, and pulls off the astoundingly difficult feat of singing all of Brush Up Your Shakespeare while constantly chewing gum. That, my friend, is talent.
The role of Hattie (technically Lilli Vannessi’s maid but in this version reduced to the status of dresser) isn’t the world’s best part but gets to start the ball rolling in both acts with one of musical theatre’s best opening songs Another Op’nin’, Another Show and also Too Darn Hot at the top of Act 2 – but is denied the former in this particular version in which there is not only no overture but in which Another Op’nin’ is doled out piecemeal between the entire chorus. Kingsley Ben-Adir scores an unexpected hit with the “straight” role of General Harrison (again, rewritten from the original version) and also gets the added bonus of the song From This Moment On, which doesn’t appear in the stage version but has been added from the film, sitting slightly awkwardly, I thought.
Although its slick, well sung and obviously very well rehearsed, the choreography is rather disappointing. For a start, there ain’t that much of it. Its there when you expect it – and nowhere else. There are a couple of places where Petruchio’s solos cry out for a bevy of beautiful hoofers, most notably during Were Thine That Special Face, whose rumba beat doesn’t so much cry out for it as sit up and beg for it. What choreography there is, is often slightly utilitarian, leaving me feeling that the whole show is somewhat meh in places when it could have been WOW. I enjoyed the slightly cartoony Taming of the Shrew sets but noticed a major error that someone on the design team should be roundly spanked for. When we see Fred and Lilli’s dressing rooms from the inside (with the doors upstage), Lilli is in Dressing Room 1 on stage left, and Fred in Room 2 on stage right. Therefore, when we see the dressing room doors from the other side (i.e. from the corridor) the door to Room 1 should be stage right and room 2 stage left - but they’re not. In fact, from the corridor, the doors (and therefore the rooms behind them) have somehow swapped sides. Neither has there been any effort made in getting Lilli’s bouquet (snowdrops, pansies and rosemary, according to the script) to look anything like snowdrops; pansies and rosemary – although one wonders where the snowdrops came from in midsummer Baltimore. Someone perhaps needs to change the script to “a bunch of generic stage greenery”. Yes, I know, I know!
The pleasure of seeing a good show with a lot of noise coming from the pit is enhanced later by scanning the “News of last year’s graduates” page in the programme. Some have indeed gone on to greatness, some fallen by the wayside with a single appearance in Casualty. Now that The Bill is no longer, things are tough out there. Still, spare a thought for some of the technical graduates, who have worked on such exciting things as Paul Daniels: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow (I kid you not), the WhatsonStage Theatregoers’ Choice Award Ceremony 2011 and, soul-destroyingly, the IBM Smarter Industries Symposium. I think I would rather gouge my own eyes out with a spoon. Or perhaps sit through Richard III again.

01 July 2011

Richard III - The Old Vic, Friday 24th June 2011

Synopsis:
Richard, the Yorkist Duke of Gloucester, has not stopped plotting since the defeat of Henry VI. He conspires to play his brothers, Edward (now King Edward IV) and George, Duke of Clarence, against each other in an attempt to gain the crown for himself. By insinuating charges of treason against George, Richard has him arrested. He also brazenly woos Anne, widow of the murdered Prince of Wales, in the midst of her husband's funeral procession. In the course of events, Edward IV, who is deathly ill at the beginning of the play, dies; Richard has already arranged for George to be murdered while imprisoned, and so it stands that Richard will serve as regent while Edward's son (also named Edward) can come of age.
In order to "protect" the Prince of Wales and his younger brother, Richard has them stay in the Tower of London. He then moves against Edward's loyalist lords; Vaughan, Rivers, Hastings, and Grey are first imprisoned, then executed. Then, with the aid of Buckingham, Richard declares that Edward IV's offspring are technically illegitimate. In an arranged public display, Buckingham offers the throne of England to Richard, who is presumably reluctant to accept. By this time, Richard has alienated even his own mother, who curses him as a bloody tyrant.
By now, Richard needs to bolster his claims to the crown; the young princes locked away in the Tower of London must be disposed of. Buckingham, until now Richard's staunchest ally, balks at this deed. Richard gets a murderer to do the deed, but turns on Buckingham for his insubordination. Now Richard—conveniently a widower after the suspicious demise of Anne—makes a ploy to marry the late King Edward's daughter, his niece. Elizabeth, Edward's widow, makes Richard believe that she agrees to the match; however, Elizabeth has arranged for a match with the Earl of Richmond.
Richmond, at this point in the action, is bringing over an army from France to war against Richard. Buckingham, finding himself out of favor with the king, gives his allegiance to Richmond. However, Buckingham is captured when his army is thrown into disarray by floods, and Richard has him executed immediately. Richmond, who has undergone his own troubles crossing the English Channel, finally lands his army and marches for London. The armies of Richard and Richmond encamp near Bosworth Field; the night before the battle, Richard is visited by the sundry ghosts of the people he has slain, all of whom foretell his doom.
At Bosworth, Richard is unhorsed in the combat. Richmond finds him, and the two of them clash with swords. Richmond prevails and slays Richard, to be crowned as King Henry VII there on the field of battle. This is the founding of the Tudor line of kings and the end of the War of the Roses.
Cast:
Richard, Duke of Gloucester - Kevin Spacey
George, Duke of Clarence - Chandler Williams
Hastings - Jack Ellis
Anne - Annabel Scholey
Elizabeth - Hadyn Gwynne
Buckingham - Chuk Ijuwi
Margarget - Gemma Jones

Creative Team:
Director - Sam Mendes
Set - Tom Piper
Costumes - Catherine Zuber
Lighting- Paul Pyant

Jesus Mary Mother of God, does the world need another black and white, modern dress production of Shakespeare? No, my friends, it does not. Does it need Kevin Spacey to dress up as Colonel Gadaffi to hammer home the point that Richard III was a crazed tyrant and that crazed tyrants are still with us? Does it need an Yank to play the (ultimately) victorious Henry VII to remind us of the American habit of riding in with the cavalry as each conflict draws to a close to “save the world from itself” and restore order? Are the modern references hammered home with that little bit too much force? Yes, my friends, they are. Did I enjoy this? No, my friends, I did not. In fact, I booed very loudly at the end, the first time I’ve ever done so and god did it feel good.

This is the final offering by Spacey’s Bridge Project, a series of UK/US collaborations which have ultimately and across the board failed to deliver the goods on any kind of level, proving nothing other than that Americans don’t understand Shakespeare’s speech patterns. This particular play also highlights the fact that big-screen actors can rarely adapt downwards to appearing on stage – its only at the end of the tediously long first half (two and a quarter hours, take a bucket to put under your seat) when the action puts Spacey in front of an offstage camera that he comes alive as an actor. It also highlights the fact that theatres really, really need to go back to putting a synopsis in their programmes – not once throughout the entire evening did I fully understand who was married to who, what the line of succession was or why the Bishop of Ely was eating strawberries (placing the action firmly in June) on the eve of the Battle of Bosworth Field (which took place in late August).

You really have to be a serious history buff to get the best out of this play – unfortunately, most of the audience seemed to be there merely because they were Kevin Spacey buffs; a fact that led to at least two people walking out before the interval (‘Psst” “What?” “Is it me or is this a really boring play?” “Yeah, really boring” “You wanna go?” “We can’t, I paid sixty quid for these tickets ‘cos you like Kevin Spacey films”. “Yeah, but I didn’t know it was gonna be like all this shoutin’ and stampin’ about and wotnot. C’mon, lets go, and we’ll get a KFC on the way home”. “Alright then”) and at least 6 more failing to return after the interval (presumably their bladders had been battered into complete submission and they couldn’t face any more). There were the requisite shouts of “whoooooo!” by the Sharon’s and Tracey’s when Spacey made his first entrance and plenty of ovating at the end (presumably by people relieved that the whole thing was over). But Mendes’ sparse direction really failed to catch fire for me. Add to that some really dreadful acting by Chuk Iwuji as the Duke of Buckingham (perhaps he should be called Chuk Himoffstage) in a role which should be that of eminence grise but was more like one of the Wicked Queen’s henchmen in Snow White and a visually dreary production made me go off this big-time. Of course, its critic-proof – practically sold out for the remainder of the run so neither this review nor any other is going to stop the tills at the Old Vic ringing loudly.

The only cast members to really come alive on stage were exclusively female – Haydn Gwynne took a while to warm up into the role of Elizabeth but fired on all cylinders once she got going, and Gemma Jones walked away with the very few scenes she was in as a dreadlocked voodoo Queen Margaret. This character is only onstage for a tiny proportion of the running time, but Jones managed to show everyone else around her up completely by giving her Margaret true Shakespearean stature. Of course, she is a classical trained actress while the majority of the younger cast have merely driven the van for a Legs Akimbo Summer Tour (most of them seem to have been cast for their skills in drumming rather than for any actual talent in acting) and by golly it showed in her last scene when every word was audible, every consonant properly place, every line thoughtfully and carefully inflected. I applauded – people sitting nearby looked at me as if I was some kind of loony but then they probably wouldn’t recognise good acting if it came and sat on their face. And as for casting Katherine Manners and Hannah Stokely as the Princes Richard and Edward (the “Princes in the Tower”) – well that was just daft. Two full grown women with breasts and hips, dolled up in school uniforms and affecting piping trebles – who ever came up with that daft idea? What really got my goat was the lack of blood on stage – to sit someone in a chair, stand behind them and put your hands over their eyes, then dim the stage lights to represent a gory murder – that’s just pretentious. As Agatha Christie said in her autobiography (and excuse me if I paraphrase a little here because I can’t locate my copy at the moment to get the exact quote ) “The symbolism of tapping someone gently on the cheek with a tin of Birds Custard Powder is all very well, but I do prefer to see someone getting a proper custard pie in the face sometimes”.

And what of Spacey? Well, he’s OK. I found him just that bit too mannered to be truly believable. Part of the problem is the accent – for the first ten minutes, I was impressed by his perfect RP, but then it started to slip away on certain words until we were getting Standard American all the way through. By the end I had started to find his performance crashingly arrogant – I felt as if he was playing to the gallery rather than really inhabiting the role.

At the end, I actually booed – the first time I recall having done so at the theatre. It was all a bit too much of the Emperor’s New Clothes for me to be convinced I was watching a great production. The one thing I dislike about what Him Indoors calls “Communist Bowing” (i.e. when all the cast take their bows together rather than individually) is that one doesn’t get the chance to applaud (or indeed boo) particular performers. I’d have stood for Gemma Jones, cheered for Hadyn Gwynne and roundly raspberried Chuk Iwuji. Bring back individual bows, synopses in the programme, some decent scenery to look at and buckets of blood on the stage and I’ll be a happy man. Oh, and some actors who don’t drawl like John Wayne when they are playing English noblemen.

It is, of course, traditional in this household to see at least one Panto during the Christmas season. However, Him Indoors recently let slip that there are tickets booked for Richard II in very late December. Unless I can wing it otherwise, he’ll be going on his own because frankly, this Richard III was just one dreary production of Shakespeare too many for me. There have been too many of late, and I’m done with The Bard for a good long time on the back of them. Call me a philistine, but I’ve come to the conclusion that what I really want at the moment is a decent musical!



What the critics thought:

http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/262da862-a31c-11e0-a9a4-00144feabdc0.html#axzz1QtTe7J6p

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/theatre/theatre-reviews/8606884/Richard-III-Old-Vic-review.html

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/theatre/review-23965974-richard-iii-old-vic---review.do

http://www.theartsdesk.com/index.php?option=com_k2&view=item&id=4015:richard-iii-old-vic-theatre-review&Itemid=27

15 June 2011

The Government Inspector - Young Vic, Monday 6th June 2011

Synopsis:
A corrupt Mayor and his officials are alarmed to hear rumours of the impending arrival of a government inspector. Evidently this fellow will be travelling "incognito". Thrown into a panic, the Mayor and his officials desperately struggle to stifle public dissatisfaction whilst deflecting the blame for their many and various misdemeanours onto each other. But who is the government inspector and where is he hiding? He could of course be anyone. It is brought to their notice that an apparently penniless rake and his servant happen to be staying at the local inn. Despite the fact that they are unable to pay their bill, this unlikely couple suddenly find themselves being treated like royalty by the sycophantic mayor and his cronies. "The Government Inspector" eventually rides away a good deal richer, having sampled for free the best hospitality the small town could muster, including not just the finest food and drink, but also the feverishly competitive adoration of both the Mayor’s forceful wife, and his seemingly impressionable daughter. The truth of their dreadful mistake is finally revealed to the town, and just as the humiliated Mayor strives to apportion blame in order to restore some semblance of credibility, the arrival of the real inspector is announced...

Mayor- Julian Barratt
Dr Gibner/waiter - Steven Beard
Maria. - Louise Brealey
Dobchinsky - Jack Brough
Bobchinsky - Fergus Craig
Osip - Callum Dixon
Postmaster/Sergeants widow - Amanda Lawrence
Mayor’s wife - Doon Mackichan
Judge - Bruce Mackinnon
Head of hospitals - Eric Maclennan
Schools superintendent - Simon Muller
Mishcka - Graham O'mara
Khlestakov - Kyle Soller
Police superintendent - David Webber
Here we go again. Another bloody “comedian” from the TV who thinks he can act. At least James Cordon has been in a couple of plays. But this fool's theatre experience? Nothing, rien, nada, zilch. Not even a touring production of The Hollow. Listen, chutney. Acting isn’t just about learning the lines, getting up on stage and regurgitating them while being vaguely zany, you know.

[Deep breath]

Right, I needed to get that off my chest. The mystery bug that has set up home inside me continued to make me feel rotten and scratchy, so I really wasn’t in a terribly receptive mood for this, particularly as I’d had a lousy meal served by completely charmless staff in the thai restaurant next door. Also, I usually only find the Evening Standard good for a quick flick through before it becomes lining material for the food recycling bin, but there were several really interesting pieces in this evening’s copy, and for tuppence I’d have gone home for a cup of tea, a plate of cheese on toast and a good read of it, before wandering towards bed. My heart sank even lower when Him Indoors warned me about the Director’s particular style – “He’s obsessed with the 1950s and wallpaper, so expect both”. Its true; both Annie Get Your Gun and The Good Soul of Szechuan had been 50s, and there had indeed been plenty of wallpaper. So lets be frank; I wasn’t expecting to be greatly entertained and I was anticipating doing some good work on my “Doesn’t Russell’s Theatre Reviews” like anything?” reputation. I’d found the plot summary vaguely intriguing though, having looked it up on the internet that afternoon (again, no synopsis in the bloody programme!), finding it bearing more than a passing resemblance to the plot of several classic plays and, indeed, a particular episode of Fawlty Towers. (Did you know there are supposed to be only seven basic plots in fiction? 1) The Quest, 2) Virtue Unrecognised, 3) The Fatal Character Flaw, 4) The Star-Crossed Lovers, 5) The Mistaken Identity and so on and so forth, which is RTRspeak for “I can’t remember the other two”). I chatted about this with Him Indoors while finishing my after-dinner cigarette – which actually tasted better, cost considerably less than and was more filling than my dumplings-in-dishwater – and, to my delight, he admitted that he had never seen the play before and didn’t know anything about it. Hurrah, thought I, no pompous pronouncements about how he had seen dear Larry Olivier or dear Cicely Courtnidge or dear (insert name here) perform in it and they were much better, dharling. But then I struck true gold – “Its so exciting coming into the consciousness of an undiscovered classic”. I laughed so much I had trouble scribbling it down on my napkin to use later.

Once again, the layout of the Young Vic has been changed so the audience enters across the stage and “out through the front door of the house” into the auditorium (nitpicking point here: the front cloth shows a two-storey house but according to the text of the play it should have three storeys. I would like to point out in my own defence that this particular nit was picked by Him Indoors and not me for a change. I responded by arguing that there’s nothing to prove that the frontcloth shows the Mayors House and nothing to say that the third storey doesn’t consist of attic space under the roof. If its nits you want picked, I can pick with the best). There’s a bit of scene-setting interaction while you are wandering around on the stage, which is always a nice idea, but there should have been a bit more of it.

Anyway, I found myself warming to the play after about 10 minutes – although there is indeed quite a lot of 50s wallpaper. I warmed to it considerably more after Kyle Soller’s first entrance because he took total control of the entire play and basically just walked away with it, turning in an extremely commanding and assured performance despite his relative youth. I did, however, wish that the director hadn’t made his costume and makeup so obviously based on Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or indeed Johnny Depp in Alice in Wonderland. It meant that I struggled for quite some time to separate the character of Khlestakov from Willy Wonka and the Mad Hatter, both of which characters seemed somehow to be feeding directly into Soller's portrayal. Still, even though I was feeling lousy, he entertained me and made me laugh, which I suppose is what good theatre is all about. It took me longer to warm toDoon Mackichan in the role of the Mayor’s wife but she got there in the end – she has a fine talent for comedy which is what the role demands, although takes a while to get into her stride, I thought. Its when her character starts trying to impress Khlestakov (who she thinks is the eponymous Government Inspector) by dropping odd French phrases into the conversation that she starts to sparkle in the role.

There is some odd casting elsewhere. Many of those playing the townspeople were obviously cast for what they look like rather than how competent they are as actors. Amanda Lawrence although a woman, is apparently well-known for her portrayal of Charles Hawtrey – the Casting Director obviously thought “This role would probably be played by Charles Hawtrey if we were making Carry On Government Inspector so get Amanda on the phone and see if she’s free”. Conversely Jack Brough and Fergus Craig, playing identically dressed (apart from the shoes, I noticed) identical twins, look nothing like each other.

Direction seemed a little hit and miss to my uneducated eye. There seemed to be quite a lot of unfocussed shambling around, particularly by Barratt; he seemed unable to keep still at any point, flailed his hands constantly and has such poor stage presence that he seemed to be constantly apologising for his performance. I longed to grab him by the shoulders and shout “Stand UP, man! And stand STILL!” For all that The Mighty Boosh may have an Alternative Comedy Following, acting isn’t just about learning the lines and trying not to fall over the furniture.

One thing I really don’t like on stage is surrealism. There are a few whimsical touches here and there in this production, in a kind of Vision On way (crikey, that’s dating me), that are funny and quite clever, particularly the use of the word “ingognito” projected onto the scenery and moved around; your eyes naturally follow it and so you don’t notice scene changes happening on the opposite side of the stage, and that I could cope with. I could just about cope with the cash-offering scene with hands coming up out of the floor, bookcases and vases holding banknotes. But there is one scene of such heavy surrealism late in the play that it knocks the action completely off-kilter and brings the play almost to a complete halt, from which it struggles to regain momentum before the end. Ditch it and the second half would sit more easily.

One thing that seemed slightly pretentious about an otherwise unexpectedly entertaining evening was the lack of the definite article in this production’s title. Gogol wrote a play and called it The Government Inspector. To call this particular version merely Government Inspector is odd, to say the least. I’m not a betting man but I will put money on the pro reviewers picking up on this. I’ll also put money on extremely mixed reviews. I suspect some will love it, others hate it. I liked it, which is neither one nor t’other, but a more positive outcome than I expected.