17 March 2008

The Baker's Wife - TEPOS @ The Bob Hope Theatre, Saturday 15th March 2008

Synopsis:

The café of a small Provençal town in the mid-1930s. . Denise, the wife of the proprietor, sees the same faces every day, but sometimes, things can happen that change you, making life different and new. Bits of conversation are heard from the customers - complaints from a gardener who's neighbor's tree is shading his spinach, an argument between the local priest and the school teacher who has been teaching that Joan of Arc "thought" she heard voices. Those bickering tell each other that their lives would be that much better "If It Wasn't for You". Through it all is the anticipation of the arrival of the baker: the village has been without bread since the last baker died and tensions have run higher than normal.

The Marquis enters with his three "nieces" and welcomes the new baker, Aimable Castagnet. Accurately named, he is a jolly, middle-aged fellow. With him is Geneviève, young and beautiful, whom the Marquis mistakes for his daughter. The error quickly addressed, it is not met without comment from the townspeople. With Pompom, the cat, the couple make for their new home, with the customers exchanging comments about the baker robbing the cradle .The villagers are pleased with the return of bread to the small town. They argue about their place in line in the small shop, eager to sample the wares of the new baker. Others, gossip about the Marquis and his nieces, and one of the villagers asks Aimable how an old man like him was able to snare the beautiful Geneviève, who sings of her past affair with Paul, a married man, and her love for Amiable. Closing the door on her past, she resolves to be a good wife to the baker.

While picking up the Marquis' pastry order, his driver, Dominique, eyes Geneviève, mistaking her for the baker's daughter. She corrects him, but he insists on addressing her as Mademoiselle. Amiable returns after trying to find Pompom and reports that the cat has run off.

The villagers gather again outside the café, engaged in their typical squabbles. The baker and his wife arrive and sit near Antoine who continues to tease them about the difference in their ages. Geneviève exits in a huff, leaving the men to tell each other to "Look For the Woman" when they start fighting. The baker and his wife gett ready for bed. Dominique and his guitar-toting friend Philippe plot to serenade her in the street. Geneviève castigates Dominique, but he is undeterred. Though she protests, she is unable to resist Dominique, and they decide to run off together.

The neighbors are awakened to a fire in the bakery's oven where the baker finds charred loaves. Usually Geneviève is the early riser of the household, and he begins to search for her, believing that she has gone in search of Pompom. A crowd begins to gather: they know Aimable's search will yield neither cat nor wife.

The Marquis arrives and takes the baker aside, telling him that Geneviève had run off with Dominque.. Philippe arrives and confirms the story, but Aimable chooses to believe that Geneviève has gone off to visit her mother. As the gossip continues, the Marquis threatens going to the police to report his stolen car, and the two lovers would be arrested. The gossipers decide that the situation is the "best thing to happen in this town in all my life!"

The teacher and the priest argue again: the priest accusing the villagers of contaminating Geneviève with their immoral conduct, the teacher championing free will. The typically sober baker orders a cognac, and another, and sings to the cafe that Geneviève has just gone to visit her mother. In an attempt to sober him up, they follow him into the bakery, only to find it in a sad state. Aimable collapses amongst the spilled flour, dough hanging from the ceiling, and burnt loaves of bread.

The villagers come to the decision that the town is cursed and they blame the baker's wife for the burdenThe Marquis enters, telling Aimable that he needs some "Feminine Companionship" and offers to loan his nieces. The girls surround the baker, flirting with him. The priest enters and, shocked, begins feuding with the Marquis. The villagers join in the fray, and the baker throws them all out.

At a town meeting Aimable admits that he knows that Geneviève has run off. He leaves the church, and the villagers vow to find his wife. Antoine enters claiming that he has found the young couple at a hotel in a nearby town. They agree to form a search party, and the Marquis, the priest, and the teacher go after the outcasts to persuade the baker's wife to return home. Left behind, the women of the town comment bitterly.

Geneviève and Dominique are together, but all is not well. She admits her passion for the young man, but gathers her things and leaves him asleep. The villagers encounter Geneviève and they eventually convince her to return. She finds Aimable and attempts to tell him the truth, but he chooses to believe that she has returned from visiting her mother and offers her dinner. Pompom arrives at the window, and Aimable bitterly harangues the cat for running after "some tom that looked good in the moonlight." He unleashes all of his pent-up anger toward Geneviève on the small cat, and offers it a saucer of milk. He has faithfully refilled the milk each day, and, when Aimable charges that the cat will run off yet again, Geneviève assures him that she will not. Reconciled, the two begin to prepare the bread for the next day. Their feuds ended, the villagers resume their everyday lives.


Set in a small French village during the 1930’s, somewhere between the locations of Chocolat (the plot of this and The Baker’s Wife share a lot of similarities, and I must check to see which was written first!) and Allo Allo, this show was, on the face of it, an unusual choice for an amateur company. It doesn’t have a very high recognition factor and is therefore not really a “bums on seats” show like, say, My Fair Lady is. But I hope the company were mollified by the audience appreciation of their efforts rather than disappointed at the lack of tickets sold. It’s a simple show, about relationships and their effects, and indeed the village itself becomes a strong character, rather in the same way that Anatevka is in Fiddler on the Roof. It was a bit of a shock to see so few people on stage – times were (not that long ago) when I appeared with the company and there were at least double the number in the cast; in fact, I think for Pirates of Penzance we had about sixty people on stage. However, the show works very well in a small venue with a relatively small cast, and adds to the feeling of intimacy.

The one set was quite simple but nonetheless effective, in warm colours appropriate for the location, although I did think that the railings of the balcony were set too low for comfort, as both the baker and his wife had to lean forward quite a way several times in order to put their hands on the rail. I have to take issue also with the use of a stuffed toy cat (and not a particularly realistic one at that – it looked like it was hiding a loo roll under its fur). Surely a real one in a cat basket would have been more effective? The cat isn’t on stage for long, and I’m sure that, with a dose of Mogadon (Moggiedon?), a sufficiently docile and amiable one could have been held by the cast members when necessary for the plot.

The orchestra was nicely handled by Alan “Smashie” Thompson in the pit, and was unobtrusive when necessary, something other MD’s of amateur companies (and some professional ones) would do well to emulate.

Sue Wooton was fab as Denise, the rather faded wife of the café owner, and her warm toned singing voice fitted the role perfectly. The stalwart Marion Terry, always a safe pair of hands, was wonderfully starchy as Therese the village spinster, and Bud Abbott hilarious as Domergue (in fact, all that was missing in his dialogue was either “It is I, Le Clerk” or “Non, non, non, non, non, non….er..oui” and he could have stepped out of Allo Allo or La Curee de Dibley, at which point the audience would probably have collectively wet themselves with hysterics). Rose Walker gave an empassioned performance as Hortense, the butcher’s wife who decides to take control of a life ruined by domestic violence, bringing to mind one of the sub-plots of Chocolat.

Sorry, everyone else, but Chris Betterton as the Village Priest deserves (and therefore gets) an entire paragraph of praise all to himself. He was perfectly cast (I did hear a rumour that he only got the part because he already had the costume in his wardrobe but I don’t believe it for a minute) and was a complete joy to watch as he wobbled between unctuous complacency and fury, with every nuance of his emotions caught perfectly on his face. I think Derek Nimmo would be proud! It used to be said of some performers that they had “comedy feet” – well, Chris has comedy hands, and I would quite happily have sat through his performance again.

Richard Cooper was very good as Dominique and his voice was excellent – a pure ringing tenor that will stand him in good stead should he decide to hit the Gilbert and Sullivan circuit in years to come, although his somewhat awkward body posture does need work, and it will be a while yet before he has the acting maturity to play roles like Colonel Fairfax in Yeoman or Tololler in Iolanthe.

Both on top form were Chris Arden as the Baker and Nicola Henderson as the eponymous wife. Chris was perfectly cast for the role, with his warm personality shining through, although he seemed a little unsure at times exactly how to pronounce the name of his wife. Being a Frenchman, it should have been Szhon-Vee-Ef rather than the English Jennie-Veeve which slipped out a couple of times, as did a rather strange hybrid version pronounced Jen-Vee-Ef. Nicola Henderson blew me (and Him Indoors) away with her vocal ability . At times she seemed a little “absent” but it is a difficult part to play – it’s a “cypher role” – things happen to her and around her rather than through her influence on the plot.

All in all, a really good night out watching people I know entertain people they know in a production as warm and comforting as bread fresh from the oven.


Into the Hoods - Novello Theatre, Friday 14th March 2008


Synopsis:



Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, two children ran away in search of freedom,but found themselves lost....in the hood. Welcome to the Ruff Endz Estate, the home of the vinyl spinning DJ Spinderella, who is dating the uber confident lady magnet Prince who, being a "true playa" is two timing her with the vivacious rapper MC Rap-on-Zel. She lives on the 10th floor of the tower block, letting down her long hair extenshuns from her window so that Prince can pay her secret visits. Then there is Lil Red, a singer who has just signed a deal with Wolf, the manager of Big TeefRecords. She secretly has feelings for music producer Jakk (who lives in the basement) who is struggling with debt, is late on the rent and facing eviction. A desperate Jakk enters into some dodgy dealings with Giant, the resident drug-dealing pimp, who lives in the penthouse. The children meet The Landlord, who sends them out to work for him with the task of finding gifts for his daughter Rap-On-Zel's birthday. In return, he promises to see them out of the Hood and safely home. They have only four days to find: an ipod as white as milk, a hoodie as red as blood, a weave as yellow as corn and trainers as pure as gold...


Those of you who are familiar with Stephen Sondheim might well recognise the above synopsis as being pretty damned similar to his work "Into the Woods" which I have reviewed elsewhere. As there was no mention of this in the programme, Im not sure whether to label this production as an affectionate tribute or a complete rip-off. Whichever it is, only those familiar with the source would really have appreciated how clever/how much of a rip-off this is. Unfortunately,unless "Into the Woods" has been performed at Belmarsh Prison or the local Young Offender's Correction Facilty recently, I very much doubt that many of the bruvvas and sistas in the audience would have realised this - it was very much aimed at the "Yeah but no but yeah but no" demographic. A comment I overheard (well, it didnt take much overhearing as it was bellowed in a voice that would have put the Beachy Head foghorn to shame) showed that most of the audience had only ever been in the kind of theatre that deals with bones broken after falling into the gutta on a night out on the razz in some of the seedier parts of London: "Taneesha, it's massif in 'ere girl!". A few rows behind me were a middle-aged couple looking like they had just stepped off the train from Tunbridge Wells, obviously hanging onto their valuables for dear life and on the sharp look out for knives being waved.

Having been told that curtain-up was at 7.30, it was irritating to sit there for a further 20 minutes surrounded by bus-loads of badly dressed and bling-laden hyenas to the accompaniment of hiphop music so loud that flakes of plaster were falling from the ceiling. It was doubly annoying to find that the first "half" of the evening consisted of what I am reliably informed was a "set" by "poet and comeeeeedien rappa "Mr. Gee" - who stood lamely before the curtain telling unfunny jokes and reciting poems that didnt rhyme and didnt scan about hoodies. The hyenas, of course, lapped all this up and howled their Nikes off (the sista next to me said to her posse member "Jeeeesus man, I is gonna bust somefin if I don't get me sum res-pite soon!"). There was no reaction from anybody in my row and a stony silence from Mr. and Mrs. Tunbridge Wells - probably because we only understood about one word in 10. After 25 minutes of this, an interval was announced. The lights went up and the music recommenced, and us regular theatre-goers sat there blinking in the light and wondering "Is that it?". The hyenas, of course, used the time to drink the bar dry of vodka and Red Bull, send text messages or use their mobiles to take pictures of each other "at the feeertre cos no-one ain't gonna beleeeeve it man".


The curtain finally went up again at 9pm, and for the first 15 minutes I resented like hell what was going on on stage - a street dance version of Into the Woods. No dialogue, only narration by a disembodied voice. No Sondheim tunes - hip hop, rap etc. My bristles went up and I sat there determined not to enjoy it. But then something caught my attention - I think it was the back projection of the estate newsagents, with a board outside "See it now in your magic Mirror"- and I began to think "Hey bro, this is well wicked". The energy pouring across the footlights was astonishing - like The Magic Flute at the Young Vic, the sheer pleasure of performing came across in buckets. I think it was when Lil Red, dreaming of winning her own Grammy (geddit?) had to cross the park to reach the Old Folk's home before sunset in order to visit Granny, that I finally started to really appreciate the thought that had gone into the production.


Of the cast, particularly good were Rhimes Lecointe as a sad (in the modern sense), spoilt and rather tubby Rap-On-Zel forever redoing her cornrows and Rowen Hawkins as a particularly spunky skater-boy Jakk - I could quite happily mount his mighty stalk any time. The highlight though must have been the visit of Fairy Gee - a body-popping six year old black girl in a gold tracksuit (with tutu) and trainers, wearing her hair in enormous bunches, giving it her all and completely upstaging every adult on stage. The audience (apart from the Tunbridge Wells's) went totally beserk at this point.


Costumes were simple, cleverly designed and appropriate for the principals, allowing them to fade back into the ensemble when necessary by donning a different colour hoodie. A major problem, however, was the rounding off of the story during the bows - most of the narration simply couldnt be heard over the screaming and so I missed out on how some of the stories ended. Jakk, it appears, ends up in bed with Lil Red - the bitch.


It was loud, it was raucous, it was completely unexpected, it was fun (once I had got over my disapproval) - but a bit cheeky in terms of it really only lasting an hour and being padded out by the "comedy" turn at the beginning. Mr. and Mrs. Tunbridge Wells staggered off into the night, ashen-faced, partly deafened and probably in search of a couple of very stiff gin and tonics.

13 March 2008

Thespis - Normansfield Theatre, Sunday 9th March 2008


Synopsis:

Scene: A Ruined Temple on the Summit of Mount Olympus
On Mount Olympus, the aged deities lament their waning influence. Mercury complains that the gods are lazy and leave all their duties to him. Jupiter says that matters have reached a crisis, but he is unsure what can be done about it. The gods see a group of mortals ascending the mountain, and withdraw to observe them from a distance.

Thespis's acting company enters for a picnic celebrating the marriage of two of its members, Sparkeion and Nicemis. Daphne, Sparkeion's former fiancée, annoys Nicemis by flirting with him. In retaliation, Nicemis flirts with Thespis.

Jupiter, Mars, and Apollo enter. All of the actors flee in terror, except for Thespis. Jupiter asks Thespis whether he is impressed with the father of the gods. Thespis replies that the gods are unimpressive, and suggests that they go down to earth in disguise to judge for themselves why people do not take them seriously. They agree that Thespis and his acting company will keep things running on Mount Olympus during the gods' absence. Each actor takes the place of one of the gods, with Thespis himself replacing Jupiter. Mercury stays behind to offer any advice the actors may need.

Act II
Under Thespis's direction, Olympus has been restored to its former splendour. However, Mercury says that the substitute gods are incompetent, and their experiments have wreaked havoc in the world below. For instance, the replacement for Mars is a pacifist, the replacement for Hymen refuses to marry anyone, and the substitute Bacchus is a teetotaller. The ersatz Apollo the god of day, goes out at night to protect Diana, the goddess of night, from coming to harm, and the substitute Venus decrees that babies are to be born full-grown. The actors also find that the romantic entanglements of the gods they've replaced conflict with their attachments in real life. Venus, played by Pretteia, is supposed to be married to Mars, but the actor playing Mars is her father. A possible solution is discovered in Venus having actually married Vulcan but Vulcan is her grandfather. Daphne has become the muse Calliope and claims, based on a bowdlerised edition of the Greek myths that Calliope was married to Apollo. However, Sparkeion, who took on the role of Apollo, is already married to Nicemis. Thespis is asked to rule on these issues, and, while he puts off judging Pretteia's case, he decides that Sparkeion is married to Daphne while they are gods, but his marriage to Nicemis will resume when they are mortals once again.

When the gods return they are furious at the disarray that Thespis's company have created. They watch incognito as Mercury presents to Thespis all of the complaints from earth that have accumulated while the gods have been gone. After listening to a long list of grievances, the gods shed their disguises and banish the actors from Olympus. As punishment for their folly, Jupiter sends them back to earth as "eminent tragedians whom no one ever goes to see."


Firstly, if you ever get the opportunity to see a show at this theatre (hidden away in the wilds of west London), go see - if only to see the theatre itself, which a perfect jewel, like something you would find inside a Faberge Easter egg. Decorated in High Pre-Raphaelite style, shimmering with darkly patinated gold leaf and decked with Rapturous Maidens (shades of Patience) and the kind of plant portraits that Rosetti would have had orgasms over, its an experience in itself. The sumptuous curtain (the old Music Hall "straight up and down" style rather than traditional velvet ones) is an added bonus. The relatively dim lighting only adds to its charm.


As predicted, the place was heaving with G&S Anoraks, flocking to see this lost G&S operetta, even on a dreary, wet Sunday afternoon in March. When I walked in the door, the average age of the audience fell by about 25%, I think. There were a fair amount of elderly women with sensible shoes who might well come out with "Stuff and nonsense", and lots of similarly-aged men with hairy ears, all wearing their M&S "Old Geezer" best - brown or grey slacks, comfy cardigans and matching kagoules. I dare say that many of them had bought a flask of tea along.


Quite what I was expecting I don't know. Its a very odd piece, owing a lot to the Edwardian love of "burlesque" and panto, the original script is not the least bit funny, and all the music save two pieces have been lost to posterity, one of which only survives because it found its way (in an emergency) into The Pirates of Penzance. Perhaps I should have read the programme properly, for on the cover it was stated "Music from Arthur Sullivan and Offenbach", which might have alerted me to the fact that I wasnt going to hear a complete, newly-composed score as I was, I think, expecting. Now, don't get me wrong - the score was perfectly adequate, well peformed by the orchestra and exuberantly conducted by Tim Henty (note: never sit right behind him, he's well over six foot and when there is no orchestra pit and he's giving it some welly, this means that a lot of the stage is obscured by what could easily double for the windmill in Don Quixote), but it did rather degenerate into a game of "spot the tune" - we got stuff from The Mikado, Ruddigore, The Gondoliers, and several other G&S's, as well as from Orpheus in the Underworld. Sullivan geeks like me picked up tunes from The Rose of Persia, and there was even some cod Don Giovanni. If you are familiar with the tunes, there is always an awful 20 seconds or so during which your brain stops paying attention to the stage and attempts to identfy them. Only when you've done this successfully do you switch back into proper listening mode. If you don't achieve recognition, you then sit there agonising for the remainder of the number (well, I do, anyway). But it did seem an awful cop-out to use tunes written a good many years later by the same composer. There may have been a number of "Henty originals" (I'm sure the overture was one, and the opening chorus another one) but more than these two I couldnt vouch for personally. A programme note about the transfer of music to Pirates said "No composer ignores good material" and perhaps there was a hint of self-justification about this. Still, kudos to Tim for managing to fit Gilbert's horrendously complicated lyrics to existing bits of Sullivan's music - particularly the fiendish patter songs - which can't have been anything like easy. The boy did good.


There was no chorus in this production, and several of the smaller roles had been incorporated into larger ones. There were also uneven numbers of gods and mortals - which showed up in the second act when the latter become the former, as not all the roles mentioned were covered. There should, for example, have been a "Venus" among the gods for her role to be taken over by a mortal, even though it would have been a super-numerary part. It also pointed up another difficulty of casting this show - all the gods must be cast from the more, shall we say, senior members of the company, and all the actors from the younger ones. I have to say that I didn't think much of the idea of portraying the actors as Edwardians rather than Greeks. Yes, I know that the sub-title of the piece is The Gods Grown Old, but the Edwardians were fervent Christians and didn't pay homage to the gods of the Greek pantheon. OK, call me a purist then.


Of the gods, Jill Pert was an excellent Diana - but then Jill Pert is an excellent anything. I long to see her Katisha, and I hear that she can even make the non-character of Little Buttercup into a fully-rounded person. She has a dry, knowing wit and sense of fun that drives across the footlights. Truly an ornament to the stage. Ian Belsey was fun as Apollo but, from the amount of eye shadow and lipstick he was sporting, would possibly have looked more at home with a dish of Trill, a cuttlefish and a little metal bell, or maybe as Louis XV (an interesting thought, as that gentleman styled himself as The Sun King and his gardens at Versailles are loaded with references to Apollo). Rebecca Seale as Mercury was not quite the glamourpuss that we are lead to believe the originator of the role, Nellie Farren, was and, at times, bore a remarkable resemblance both physically and vocally to a very young Barbara Windsor. She also had an irritating habit when front of stage of fixing her gaze on a point of the auditorium ceiling and singing to it, rather than making any kind of eye contact with the audience. Still, it has to be said that her diction during the horrendously fast patter songs was excellent.


On the mortal side, Richard Suart played Thespis as a larger-than-life version of Richard Suart, and on occasion completely overdid the melodrama to the point of ludicrousness. Him Indoors said that "You have to rise above the material, dahling" but my opinion veers towards "Less is Definitely More". It was an interesting idea to have the role of Sparkieon played as a "Trouser Role" (i.e. by a woman dressed up as a man) and Miranda Westcott did literally sparkle vocally. Martin Lamb made a fine and portly Tipseion, but, as the great Victoria Wood herself once wrote in a sketch, "Drop the Geordie, dear - its not coming across". David Menezes, as the Company Manager Timidon, was very good, seemingly characterising his role on the impressionist Alastair McGowan (currently to be found boring theatregoers -or at least those four I heard on the train recently - with his awful Mikado). Rachel Harland spoke and sung prettily but with perhaps a little over-enunciation, and I think that Sian Jones was rather wasted in the largely speaking role of Pretteia (portrayed as a slightly lunatic ballerina) if her solo during the opening chorus was anything to go by.


An interesting afternoon's entertainment, although I think it does show that what is lost sometimes deserves to remain lost. Gilbert certainly wasn't on top form when he wrote the libretto (proved by the fact that the script seemed to have been largely re-written for this production). Whether Sullivan was on top form we shall, unfortunately, never know. But if his performance that afternoon was anything to judge by, Mr. Henty is certainly a man to be watched - but not from the back.

28 February 2008

Major Barbara - National Theatre, Wednesday 27th February 2008




Synopsis:





LadyUndershaft is discussing with her son, Stephen, some permanent source of income for her grown daughters - Sarah, who is engaged to Charles Lomax, and Barbara (a Major in the Salvation Army), who is engaged to Adolphus Cusins. She comes to the conclusion that the only solution to the problem is to take monetary help from her estranged husband, Andrew Undershaft, who has made millions of pounds from his munitions factory. According to tradition, the heir to the Undershaft fortune must be an orphan who can be groomed to run the factory. Undershaft himself had been a poor young man; he improved himself by working hard, and wants to give another young man the same kind of opportunity. Lady Undershaft has managed to raise the children by herself. Stephen, Sarah, and Barbara are reintroduced to their father.


A deal is made between Barbara and Undershaft to visit each other's place of work. He meets Barbara at her shelter the following morning, and is impressed with her abilities as she handles various people with patience, firmness, and sincerity. Undershaft decides that if anyone in his family is capable of managing his business, it is his idealistic and committed daughter.


Undershaft brings Barbara back to reality by revealing the darker side of The Salvation Army when he gives a sizable donation, which she wants to refuse because the source was weaponry; however, it is eagerly accepted by the officer in charge of the shelter. Disillusioned, Major Barbara leaves the shelter in tears. She visits the factory with her fiancé, Adolphus Cusins, also a member of The Salvation Army and a
professor of Greek, who joined The Salvation Army only because he was in love with Barbara. He is soon made the heir and head of the Undershaft Munitions Foundry, because he is - technically - a foundling; his father having married his dead wife's sister (which is not recognised legally as a marriage).


Barbara intends to resign from the Salvation Army having seen what she views as their hypocrisy but changes her mind and tells Cusins that she will die a salvationist After she marries him, she plans for them to live in the countryside near the munitions factory, where she will continue her work and bring her message of salvation to the factory workers instead of just to people who are poor and starving.


Simon Russell Beale, Simon Russell Beale..... all I ever see these days at the theatre is Simon Russell Bloody Beale...


By Gum, Shaw was a provocative little bugger, canny old Socialist that he was. This play is basically on the theme that "good things can come from Capitalism" and that "tainted money is as good as pure when you really need it" and, surprisingly, having seen this play, I find myself in agreement with him - especially after thinking it would end with Barbara's complete disillusionment with her beloved cause and her beloved fiance, only to find that it actually ends with her realisation that she can use both fiance and the "dirty money" in pursuance of her own ideals.


This was a reasonably "trad" production, with the Undershaft family home nicely contrasting with the run-down grubbiness of the Salvation Army centre. There was, however, to my mind just that little bit too much Edwardian clutter on stage in the first scene, and some of the plants were very badly placed, almost crowding out the Grandfather clock. The centre, conversely, was extremely grim, although the many hanging lampshades did look rather too modern for the period. Perhaps the National were reusing some of them from the awful "Women of Troy" from last year. The Munitions Factory was stark and sleek, although I wasnt really that keen on the rows and rows and rows of bombs everywhere, all being polished by silent, careworn factory workers - their presence really rather distracted from the main action.


There is just that little bit too much of coincidence towards the end to make a really satisfactory conclusion to the story - the realisation that Cusins is technically an orphan and therefore able to inherit the factory from Undershaft is just that little bit too neat. And, while I think about it, being a child of parents whose marriage is not recognised by law does not make you an orphan, it makes you a bastard. I can't quite remember if Cusins reports that his parents are actually dead - perhaps he's an orphaned bastard? Anyway, it does still rather smack of Shaw having written himself into a slightly tight corner and using coincidence to get out of it, and its soooooo obvious at one point that this is how the plot is going to be unravelled that even I spotted it coming a long while off. The end, where Barbara decides to take her message to well fed, happy well-housed and employed factory workers rather than to the underclasses of society struggling to make ends meet (and who are therefore presumably considerably more in need of the few comforts that religon and a hot meal can bring) leaves a slightly bitter taste which seems to debase Shaw's socialist tenets.


Performances were, on the whole, very good and assured (though this was only a preview performance) - even from the despised Mr. Russell Beale, who seems to have managed to reign in his propensity to spit all over people whilst speaking. There was considerably less of the slightly hysterical flapping about that he is prone to as well. Hayley Attwell made a fine Barbara, although seemed somehow more convincing in her uniform than her civvies. "Clothes makest man" says the Bible (or was it Shakespeare?) and she was all blood and fire in the former, and rather like a damp marshmallow in the latter. It must be a difficult part to play. Him Indoors raved about Clare Higgins (Lady Undershaft) but I personally found a lot of her dialogue very difficult to hear unless she was actually facing in my direction, as opposed to SRB who could probably have been heard in the wings, the flies and the street outside. Jessica Gunning was strangely cast as Sarah Undershaft, looking rather like one of her father's airships(bustles and ruffles do not sit well on the short and, let us be frank, dumpy). In fact, because of this, it was a) hard to see her as part of the family, who were for the most part tall and elegantly spare and b) even harder to see why Tom Anderson's Charles Lomax was so desperately in love with her. Lomax is a standard "Silly Upper Class Ass" part and Anderson did all that was necessary for the role rather than all that was possible.


Of the smaller roles, Maggie McCarthy was a wonderful Mrs. Baines - all doughy faced but fervant and muscular Christianity, and Ian Burfield was delectably rough and ready as Bill Walker.


All in all an interesting, thought provoking production, raising all sorts of questions about sponsorship and donations, both to the Salvation Army and to "the arts" themselves. The place was packed out even though this was a preview showing, as CBB said at one point, that there is obviously a very large audience for "classic" plays which endure in their relevance and appeal over emphemerally fashionable "here today and gone tomorrow" new works. After a good evening out like this, I am inclined to agree.


25 February 2008

Shadowlands – Novello Theatre, Tuesday 12th February 2008


Synopsis:


The story follows C. S. Lewis, a crusty Oxford Don, confirmed bachelor and writer of the famous Narnia books. he meets an American fan, Joy Gresham, whom he befriends and eventually marries, initially so that she can remain in England, but then finds that he truly loves here. The story deals with his struggle with personal pain and grief: Lewis preaches that one should endure suffering with patience, but finds that the simple answers he had preached no longer apply when Joy becomes afflicted with cancer and eventually dies.

I’m writing this review a good two weeks after having seen this show – a combination of work pressure and the PC at home giving huge amounts of trouble! I’m having to rely on my rather bad memory as a result, so apologies to all my readers.

To all intents and purposes, it didn’t sound like a great night out – watching a fusty old Don fall in love with a woman who then dies of cancer. But such is the power of the play – and indeed the power of love itself – that it actually turned into quite a life-affirming evening. Both Charles Dance (Lewis) and Janie Dee (Joy), gave incredibly real and moving performances, to the extent that sometimes it was actually quite painful to watch them enjoying their brief golden afternoon of happiness before Joy discovers that she has terminal cancer. Simply and movingly told, with just the right amount of stage setting - walls of books which rose and fell to represent Lewis’ college rooms, his home, a teashop, a Registry office, a hospital ward….proving that stage magic doesn’t need to be all singing, all dancing in order to convince. At two points in the play, the walls lift to reveal the doors of the famous Wardrobe, which open, allowing us to see into the world beyond – firstly a winter landscape with silver birch trees against a dark sky, with snow falling gently, and secondly the sun-drenched orchard which appears in The Magician’s Nephew. In the book, Digory picks an apple from a tree and takes it home to his dying mother, who is cured of her illness. He saves a seed and plants it and, many years later, when the resulting tree is blown over in a gale, uses the wood to make the Wardrobe through which the four Pevensie children enter in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. This story is agonisingly mirrored in the play when Douglas, Joy’s young son, enters the orchard himself but finds that the magic doesn’t work in real life. Not having seen a script of the play (or indeed the film it was based on), neither of us knew whether these scenes are actually in the script or whether they were just a directorial “add in” – but by golly they worked well.

In the penultimate scene, as Joy dies in Lewis’s arms, there was one of those incredible, deep silences that you get in the theatre sometimes when the audience is so rapt (and wrapped up) with the performance that all the twitching, coughing, shuffling of programmes and blowing of noses just stops, and you can almost hear people concentrating on the action on stage. It’s almost as if peoples’ senses of sight and hearing are suddenly turned up several pitches to levels that we rarely use, and you find yourself holding your breath so as not to disturb your reception. It rarely happens, and when it does, it’s electric.

Superlatives fail me really when attempting to describe Dance’s portrayal of C. S. Lewis as a Don so crusty that you could almost see the cobwebs obscuring the windows of his mind, only to have them scattered by the fresh breeze of Janie Dee’s wonderful (and aptly named) Joy. Her New York accent, maintained scrupulously throughout the performance, was spot on. Her depiction of Joy’s courage in the face of excruciating pain was a triumph – so real that I occasionally found it difficult to bear. Richard Durden was also superb as Lewis’s fusty, crusty bachelor brother, underplaying the role nicely with superbly bumbling humour, and there was some fine support from the rest of the cast – although I do wonder about the accuracy of having the wedding ceremony carried out by a female Registrar. I don’t think Oxford was that far ahead of its time in the 1950s.

For only the second time this year, I stood to give my applause at the end (although didn’t fall over this time). What was surprising, given the audience reaction (to the play, not to my standing up!) was that I was the only person who did so.

07 February 2008

Ring Around the Moon - Playhouse Theatre, Tuesday 5th February 2008


Synopsis (take a deep breath and make yourself a coffee – this is long and complicated!):




Ring Around the Moon opens with the aristocratic Hugo, talking with Joshua, his butler, about Hugo’s brother, Frederic, who has been sleeping outside his fiancee’s bedroom window while she is a guest at the family’s estate. Frederic and Hugo are identical twins, but Hugo is good with women and Frederic inept. Hugo and Joshua are unhappy with Frederic’s fawning over Diana Messerschmann, his fiancee. Frederic’s love for Diana is indeed insecure. Enter Patrice Bombelles (Messerschmann’s male secretary) and Lady India (Messerschmann’s mistress and Hugo and Frederic’s cousin), who reveal their affair behind the back of the industrialist, Messerschmann. Patrice is especially worried because wealthy Messerschmann pays Patrice’s salary and “keeps” Lady India. These two are replaced by Madame Desmermortes and her nephew, Hugo, he notifying her of LadyIndia’s affair with Messerschmann. Hugo informs Madame of Frederic’s impending marriage to Diana. Madame is unhappywith Messerschmann’s and Lady India’s affair because Messerschmann is not an aristocrat. Hugo informs Romainville he has seen him doting on a young girl (Isabelle) and further, knows he has brought her to the country. Hugo threatens to expose the meeting to Madame as a lecherous affair unless Romainville agrees to invite Isabelle to the Desmermortes estate and pose as Romainville’s niece. Isabelle and her mother soon arrive, the latter dazzled by the estate and the prospect of marrying Isabelle to a rich man. Isabelle thinks she has come just to dance. When Hugo greets them, Isabelle is preoccupied by his handsomeness Madame and Joshua enter, planning the ball to be held that evening. Hugo plans to parade the beautiful Isabelle at the ball so Frederic will fall in love with
her, and out of love with Diana. Romainville rushes in to alert Hugo about a rumple in the plan: Isabelle’s mother has recognized Madame’s companion, Capulat, as her long lost friend. Romainville is worried Isabelle’s mother will betray the plan to Capulat who will in turn tell Madame, giving away Romainville’s apparently lecherous connection to Isabelle and ruining his relationship with the Desmermortes. Romainville’s suspicions are confirmed after talking with the mother who has apparently already told Capulat too much. Hugo decides to tell Capulat to keep quiet, but before he can, Madame corners Romainville and intently questions him about his family connection to the enchanting “niece,” a grilling through which Romainville barely fakes his way. The final exchange of Act I has Capulat promising Isabelle’s mother to help her win Hugo for Isabelle.


Capulat slyly gives up misguided bits of Hugo’s plot to get Madame to connect Hugo and Isabelle. Madame is mystified (aren’t we all by this point!). Patrice enters with Lady India discussing Patrice’s terrible fear that Messerschmann will discover Patrice and Lady India’s affair. This excites India who romanticizes being poor. When Messerschmann enters, Patrice and Lady India leave, wondering if Messerschmann has seen them and guessed their affair. Isabelle finally tells Frederic — immediately after Hugo has kissed her to arouse Frederic’s jealousy — that she is not, as it appears, in love with Hugo, but with him. Hugo then tells Isabelle of his plan to inflame Frederic’s love still further with another fictional lover pretending to challenge Hugo to a duel if Hugo does not cease his attentions toward Isabelle. Shots will then ring out and Isabelle, acting as if she thinks Frederic dead, will fake drowning. Hugo will then “rescue” her and carry her to Frederic. So happy will Isabelle act to see Frederic still alive, and so flattered will Frederic be that Isabelle attempted to drown herself on his account, Frederic will fall in love with her. Isabellebecomes so frustrated in her still-unstated love for Hugot that she runs off. Diana enters having seen Hugo and Isabelle togetherDiana and getting Hugo to say he loves her (Diana) but he refuses. Enter Messerschmann. Diana complains to him that she is being upstaged by Isabelle, that Isabelle is stealing the attentions of the men at the ball. Messerschmann promises his daughter he will take care of everything. Now Hugo enters threatening Patrice to expose his affair with Lady India if Patrice will not be the one to play the jealous lover and duelist in Hugo’s crazy scheme. Patrice complies. Now Capulat enters with Isabelle’s mother, richly dressed as “Countess Funela”. Romainville enters and tells Hugo he is distraught because Messerschmann has threatened to ruin Romainville financially unless Romainville gets Isabelle out of the Desmermortes house. Patrice now enters to play the jealous lover, insult Hugo, and challenge him to a duel. But Patrice is ignorant that by this time Hugo has forgotten the plan, preoccupied as he is with Romainville’s hysteria and the “Countess Funela.”


Hugo, his plans in disarray, desperately discusses a new and fantastic plan — no longer to match Isabelle with Frederic by having her fake her drowning — but to embarrass the rich guests by exposing Isabelle as a humble girl, not an upper-class debutante as he led them to believe. Isabelle, will have none of it. Diana enters and complains to Isabelle about the misfortune of wealth. Isabelle ends up fighting with Diana. When Frederic discovers them, Isabelle mistakes him for Hugo, telling him off and confessing her love. Frederic admits he is not Hugo. Diana dislikes the attention Frederic and Isabelle pay each other and says she is leaving, demanding Frederic leave with her. Isabelle, now alone and distraught, is discovered by her mother. Isabelle tells her mother the charade is finished and that they are leaving. Messerschmann enters and tries to bribe Isabelle to leave the house. She refuses his money. He cannot believe it and continues raising his offers as fast as she rejects them. Suddenly, Messerschmann becomes disillusioned about the power of money and he and Isabelle begin tearing up stacks of notes. Isabelle then attempts to drown herself for real, but Hugo rescues her. Madame persuades Isabelle to forget Hugo and has Frederic console her in order to match them. She then attempts to convince Hugo of his love for Diana. Lady India announces that Messerschmann is financially ruining himself by selling off his assets. Diana declares that since her father is poor and her marriage with Frederic finished, she will learn to be poor. Hugo advises reconciliation with Frederic. Romainville enters and announces he will propose to Isabelle, but learns Isabelle is now with Frederic. In a note from Hugo brought in by Joshua, Hugo
confesses his love for Diana because he thinks her poor. Messerschmann then confirms the news of his financial ruin. Lady India is moved and entranced by the adventure of being poor. The play ends with Messerschmann reading a telegram saying that his attempts at financial ruin were perceived as manoeuvering, and have made him richer than ever.


Phew! I hope you’re still with me – would you believe that I edited that down by about half? As you might expect from reading that, I lost the plot here very quickly (in fact, after about 5 minutes) and only began to pick it up again towards the end of Act 1. The fact that Hugo and Frederick are played by the same actor, and that Diana and Lady India look very similar in this production and in Act II wear practically identical costumes merely added to my confusion – in fact, it wasn’t until they appeared on stage together about 10 minutes before the end that I actually realised they were two different people. I think it bewildered a lot of other people too – and I think this is going to be a major stumbling block to the success of this production. People don’t like to have to think at the theatre these days, pace stuff like “We Will Rock You”, “Grease”, “Dirty Dancing” and all the other tat in the West End based on screen musicals. In fact, after about 20 minutes, I found myself just watching the performances rather than trying to concentrate on the story.

A lot of this production comes perilously close to farce – not one of my favourite art forms. It all has to take place at a considerable speed (otherwise one would be in the theatre all bloody night) and, I think, needs considerable editing to make it bearable. It still feels like a VERY long show if you’re not completely au fait with the plot, and, given the length of the synopsis above, no doubt you will be in agreement. In fact, several people left at the interval, presumably to go and wrap their aching heads in wet towels.

There were some very good performances, however. Angela Thorne (late of “To the Manor Born”) was a wonderful Madame, looking and sounding like Lady Bracknell as played by Wendy Hillier, and delivered many of her wonderful lines with a complete sense of their “throwaway” value – always good for a laugh. I shall remember the line “He’s scuttling about like a dilapidated moth” for some considerable time! However, she seemed very, very dodgy on her lines occasionally (as did some other members of the cast) – there was quite a lot of umming and ahhing throughout, as well as the odd repeated word, as if her mental autocue had paused and she was waiting for it to catch up with her train of thought. JJ Feild (pretentious name, utterly pretentious website at http://jj-feild.com/drupal/node/291) gave an astounding performance in terms of the complexity of playing twin brothers, but was far too cold and charmless to bring it off convincingly and came across as a caddish lounge lizard for the majority of the evening, and seemed rather too taken with his own high opinion of his acting skills for his own good. The pro reviews, however (when they appear, this was a preview performance) will probably call him “the next Kenneth Branagh” or something similarly inane. I didn’t take to him as either a person or an actor. Belinda Lang was utterly wonderful as Isabelle’s mother, looking and sounding like a demented parrot on acid – in fact on several occasions I wondered whether she had acquired the skill of breathing through her ears. Joanna David (who lately played Jennifer Erhle’s aunt in the film version of “Pride and Prejudice) took on the rather thankless task of Capulet with great aplomb and, I was pleased to note on several occasions, actually walked like a slightly harassed Lady Companion (demonstrations available on request). Emily Bruni was first class as Lady India, with superb, crystal cut diction and projection meaning that every shade of every word could be heard right at the back of the auditorium. For this alone she deserves several dozen Brownie Points. The scene in which she danced the tango with Patrice (Andrew Havill) while delivering her lines in time with the beat was one of the funniest and cleverest things I have seen on stage in a long time – and in fact I started the round of applause at the end of it.

Costumes were pretty and inspired by the Dior “New Look” of the early 1950s, although putting two actresses in practically identical costumes when they have a marked physical resemblance is best avoided if one’s audience (i.e. me!) is not to get completely confused. The set was OK – basic but effective. It was supposed to represent the house’s Winter Garden (i.e. conservatory), but was bare of any kind of plant or furniture and looked cold, grotty and rather damp. In fact, it got very boring to look at after a while. The fact that the door frame seemed to have come adrift at a strange angle really didn’t help. I suppose it was bare so as not to distract attention from the performances, but I for one would certainly have welcomed slightly more visual appeal.

In summary, I enjoyed this production for its individual performances (and occasionally for the individual scenes) but lost grip on the story very quickly. It felt far too long and wordy, consisted of lots of talking and not a lot of action and, by the end, I was pleased to go home. Ironically, the author’s surname (Anouilh) is pronounced exactly the same as “ennui”, which is French for “boring”. Enough said. I predict a run of less than three months. Its just not the right kind of play for London just now. Oh – and I never did find out why its called “Ring Around the Moon”.


What the critics thought:




12 January 2008

The Magic Flute – Young Vic, Friday 11th January 2008


Synopsis:


Tamino, a Prince, is saved from a monster by the attendants of the Queen of the Night who, in return for the service rendered him, send him on a mission to rescue her daughter from the hands of the High Priest of Isis, Sarastro. The Queen is furious with Sarastro, because he has taken away her daughter, Pamina, in order to bring her up in the temple in the paths of purity and goodness, away from the evil influence of her mother. Tamino eagerly undertakes the task; and is joined by a merry bird-catcher, Papageno. The Queen gives a magic flute to Tamino, which he is to play in times of danger, and to his companion she gives a peal of bells for the same purpose. They succeed in saving Pamina from the unwelcome attentions of Monastatos, a slave, who is terrified at the unusual appearance of the feather-garbed Papageno. The new-comers are brought before Sarastro, who proves to the young Prince that he is really doing right in detaining Pamina from her mother; and, seeing that the pair are already in love with one another, he promises them future happiness if they are only willing to go through many ordeals to purify their hearts and prove themselves worthy of the great gift of Love. The lovers agree to all the conditions, and they go bravely and without hesitation through the ordeals of Silence, Fire and Water which lead them to the altar. Their trials are not over, for the Queen of the Night still determines upon revenging herself upon Sarastro; and she visits her daughter in a vision and commands her to slay him. Pamina refuses, but her courage is tried by the absence of Tamino, who is taken from her side to be initiated into the mysteries of the rites of the goddess Isis. For a while she is tempted to believe her absent lover false, but she is reassured and permitted to join in the trials to which he is exposed. Papageno accompanies Tamino in most of his adventures; and in all their times of difficulty, by the use of the magic flute and the peal of bells, they are able to conquer the dangers that beset them, since the music has the power to change anger into kindness and storm into calm. Finally all the plots of the Queen of the Night are frustrated, and Pamina and Tamino come through all their trials and troubles cleansed and purified. Papageno secures a reward by finding a companion in a pretty little feather-clothed maiden, Papagena, and they plan a large family. As the evil of the Queen of the Night is finally conquered, the sunshine of goodness and joy drives away the darkness; and as a reward for their true love and faithfulness throughout all their trials Pamina and Tamino are united. Love and integrity conquer all that is evil and dark.


My Readers will have to forgive me if I burble on at considerable length about just how fantastic this production was, and if I stumble about ladling superlatives all over it – but this really blew my socks off and made an incredible start to the year’s theatre-going. If you haven’t already read about this production in the press, then I will fill you in. This is an all-black company of young actors, singers, dancers and musicians from one of the most poverty-stricken areas of South Africa, presenting what might best be called “European Classics” in their own imaginative style (they're also doing A Christmas Carol). To describe it as “The Magic Flute meets The Lion King” comes nowhere near doing it justice. For this is Mozart’s tired old warhorse of an opera performed on marimbas, trumpets and empty coke bottles, underscored with tribal chants and traditional dance rhythms, and sung, danced and acted with incredible energy, verve and utter joy. The characters and story remain the same as in the original, but this production completely strips away centuries of white cultural imperialism and exposes powerful, raw bones of emotion. It is filled with a sense of wonderment and of the sheer delight of making music and sharing it with an audience. The company is multi-talented – dancers who can play instruments, singers who can dance, musicians who can act. No rigid demarcation here – the entire company are involved at all times in presenting their work to you. But why do I call it “work”? The sheer joy of performing and sharing came across in bucketloads – from the lovely lady playing the marimba during the overture and smiling fit to burst, from the row of people playing water-filled coke bottles and wiggling their hips in time to the sound, to the trio of lavender-suited “guardian angels” having a rare old time sending up The Three Degrees. This production showed that opera doesn’t have to be stuffy and rigid – it can be powerful and emotional and quite, quite thrilling. The cadences and rhythms of tribal music and song call to your soul – there were several times when I found myself jigging about in time to the beat, and wanting to get up on stage and join in the fun – and when was the last time that happened while you were at the opera?

Performances were uniformly excellent – Mhlekazi Mosiea sounded fresh and in complete vocal command of the role of Tamino (fiendishly difficult and one of Mozart’s most vocally demanding male roles), and he was more than ably partnered by Philisa Sibeko as Pamina, seemingly effortlessly soaring above the entire company with a voice like fresh water pouring from a bowl. Zamile Gantana was a wonderfully funny and touching Papageno and Thozamo Mdliva one of the happiest and downright sexiest Papagena’s I’ve ever seen - there's something about a well-built African woman dressed from head to toe in pink camouflage that makes you just want to smile. Simphiwe Mayeki, while not as vocally deep as is usual for Sarastro, nevertheless sounded like honey warmed in the sun. Bongiwe Mapassa sounded just a little pushed as the Queen of the Night, but she can be forgiven for this as she was covering this incredibly difficult role last night for Pauline Malefane at short notice. Her interpretation of the character, however, was spot on, combining brooding malevolence with the slight detachment from reality that the part requires.

The production was almost brutally simple, presented without scenery on a large tilted stage of wood the colour of scorched earth, allowing your imagination to take flight like one of Papageno’s birds released from the cage of convention – in this case, eight smiley ladies dressed in shocking pink struttin’ their stuff during his first solo, wiggling their hips and neatly pointing up that this birdcatcher was just as interested in the human kind of “bird” as he was the feathered kind. The Queen of the Night appeared under a flickering blue neon crescent moon like that outside a seedy nightclub and the three “guardian spirits” (usually cherubic young boys), were sassy, streetwise young girls, all polished nails and bobbed hair – the scene where they appeared in fluffy pink baby-doll nighties, each carrying a shocking pink teddy bear got a deserved round of applause. I loved the simplicity of the scene in which Papageno’s mouth is padlocked for lying – a bucket with a keyhole painted on it was simply put over his head. His “magic bells” were water-filled coke bottles rapped with old spoons by a group of men and women up on the balcony. I also loved the running joke that the sound of the Magic Flute itself (here a long length of what looked like bamboo on a fabric shoulder strap) was provided by a silver trumpet. The fact that the guy playing the trumpet was actually standing in a spotlight on stage right behind Tamino made it doubly funny and really took the mickey out of stage artifice – its usually played on a real flute from the orchestra pit.

During the interval, I stood next to a large African woman crying her eyes out in the foyer while beaming all over her face. I heard her say “These are my people and I am so very proud of my country” and, by God, I could have hugged her. It was a wonderful, wonderful evening, full of magic, joy, energy and the happiness of making music and sharing it with others. It’s deservedly transferring to the West End (the Duke of York's Theatre) and I can do no more than urge you to go along and have your perceptions of opera turned inside out to the beat of the marimba.

What the critics said:

http://arts.guardian.co.uk/theatre/drama/reviews/story/0,,2220241,00.html

http://www.london-se1.co.uk/news/view/3040

http://www.britishtheatreguide.info/reviews/impempe-rev.htm