Posts tagged ‘what’s on stage’

16 August, 2010

Gutted. A Revenger’s Musical ***

Assembly @ George Street, 7 – 29 August 2010

Reviewed for The List (issue 665)

Orphaned Sorrow has finally married her parents’ murderer, step one in her elaborate but strangely poorly thought-out revenge. Early on her resolve fluctuates for the sake of making her redeemable, instead making her a ditherer: an even less sympathetic quality than irredeemability. The book is mostly prosaic and uninspired, but not offensively so, and the production isn’t without a certain boisterous, admirably carefree charm.

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16 August, 2010

The Vanishing Horizon ****

The Zoo, 8 – 27 August 2010

Review for The List (issue 664)

Did someone accuse Idle Motion of being one-hit wonders? Because as if in response to such an accusation, the company has recreated the success of its 2009 smash Borges and I with near-scientific precision. Recreated, that is, as opposed to surpassed.

Make no mistake, The Vanishing Horizon is still one of the most compelling shows you’re likely to see at this year’s Fringe: an exquisite weaving-together of music, text, movement and design in which each element supports and bolsters every other. But the pattern of the weave remains exactly the same as for Borges and I: suitcases replace books, pioneering aviatrixes replace Jorge Luis Borges and the heartache of an absent parent replaces that of impending sight loss, but the proportions remain comfortably unchanged.

Perhaps there’s nothing wrong with sticking to a winning formula, and winning this formula certainly is: the luggage-based set pieces alone are so delightfully innovative that some spark spontaneous applause when deployed. Surely, though, innovation of this calibre could be put to better use than reliving past successes.

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11 August, 2010

Julien Cottereau – Imagine-toi ****

Julien Cottereau in Imagine-toi

Julien Cottereau in Imagine-toi. Image courtesy of the EdFringe Media Office

Assembly @ Princes Street Gardens, 5 – 29 August 2010

Reviewed for The List (issue 664)

The power of Julien Cottereau’s imagination knows no bounds. He has only to imagine a ball to make it as tangible for the audience as for himself. When he imagines an adorable suffering puppy, no one has the heart to put it out of its imaginary misery. From the moment he imagines that an audience member is actually a monstrous ogre, that person’s footsteps shake Princes Street Gardens to their very foundations.

That it’s all done with mime and mouth noises makes the experience more, not less, magical. Cottereau’s library of mouth-and-microphone sound effects is truly encyclopaedic. Some embarrassment is unavoidable for those he volunteers to join him on stage, but it’s amply balanced in most cases by the fantastical soundtrack he provides for them.

While the action consists largely of family-friendly silliness, it isn’t all just make-believe for its own sake. Right from the start Cottereau conjures a cruelly authoritarian but currently slumbering monster in the next room, deftly adding an undertone of rebellion – of imagination as refuge from oppression – to this daft yet moving spectacle.

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11 August, 2010

Poland 3 Iran 2 ***

Promo image for Poland 3 Iran 2

Promo image for Poland 3 Iran 2, courtesy of the EdFringe Media Office

Pleasance @ Thistle Street Bar, 4 – 28 August 2010

Reviewed for The List (issue 664)

Iran’s narrow defeat at the hands of Poland in the 1978 World Cup serves more as punctuation than as the main text of this lecture-cum-barroom shaggy dog story. Lecture because its main visual element is a slideshow; barroom tale because it’s told in a tiny pub, as the bartender wipes glasses.

For Mehrdad Seyf (representing Iran), football is intertwined with politics. For his counterpart Chris (representing Poland; he’s Essex-born but his dad’s Polish), it’s something to obsess over. For both, the relationship between Iran and Poland has affected their family history.

The resulting I-go-you-go slideshow oscillates between the fascinating, the revealing, the confessional and the merely mildly interesting; and there are some lo-res clips of the match in question, as well. While both men are engaging speakers, and the venue encourages intimacy, the show’s demands on its audience are chiefly intellectual: to take in facts and trivia, and only to respond emotionally at infrequent moments (the tale of Mehrdad’s uncle, in particular). The highly emotive closing image therefore leaves us wondering whether we’ve missed something vital.

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11 July, 2010

One-on-One Festival

Abigail Conway in On Dancefloors, One-on-One Festival

Abigail Conway in On Dancefloors, One-on-One Festival. Image courtesy of Mobius Industries

Battersea Arts Centre, 6 – 18 July 2010

Written for the British Theatre Guide

The One-on-One Festival is a coming of age ceremony, celebrating the graduation of the one-on-one encounter from experiment to bona fide artistic genre. That the symbolically removed training wheels are replaced surreptitiously with alternative support arrangements is not necessarily an admission of weakness: some art forms are at their best when leaning on others.

Take any one-on-one encounter on an individual basis and it’s easy to see why the genre has been repeatedly accused of inherent exclusionism and insubstantiality. Encounters rarely last more than half an hour, and many little more than five minutes. For obvious logistical reasons, audience capacity is almost always severely limited.

But to consider individual examples in isolation is to be wilfully blinkered to the genre’s unique qualities – qualities the people at Battersea Arts Centre understand well, having personally supported the development of a good few practitioners through their Scratch Festivals and Supported Artist programme.

Hence no individual work is made the centrepiece of the One-on-One Festival. Instead, 30-odd artists are installed throughout the building, and a ticket gets you a sort of charm bracelet of encounters, with three appointments timetabled for you by BAC and the chance to accessorise the experience by discovering hidden extras in the interim.

Whether or not the experience satisfies therefore depends on BAC’s quasi-random allocation process, the skill of the artists and the adventurousness of the customer in roughly equal parts – which seems appropriate, given that the defining feature of one-on-one is an exchange between artist and participant.

Inevitably, with so many acts side by side, there’s still an element of exclusion: no one can see everything, and discovering something exciting only to be told you can’t experience it without an appointment is undeniably frustrating. But whereas the limited capacity of individual one-on-one works can feel unfair, like artificial scarcity calculated to drive demand, the issue here is that there’s too much to see and too little time, which is easier to deal with.

Likewise, certain of the acts are still as whimsical and weightless as spun sugar. Patrick Killoran’s Observation Deck, in which participants lie with heads and shoulders sticking out of a third-floor window for ten minutes, is something of a ‘so what?’ experience taken on its own, for example. But the One-on-One Festival experience as a whole can’t be as easily dismissed – not when it also contains Ontroerend Goed’s profoundly moving The Smile Off Your Face.

To demand that one-on-one encounters stand up to criticism when viewed in isolation is to approach them with a narrow mind. One-on-one is not theatre; the genre may have incubated in a theatrical environment but one-on-one encounters are not plays, or even necessarily performances, and it would be wrong to measure their success by theatre’s usual benchmarks.

One-on-one is collaboration. It’s exchange. It’s intimacy. It’s two people tied back to back, scaling the inside of a chimney: something neither one could do alone. Stop imagining one-on-one encounters taking place in theatres and start imagining, say, Folk in a Box installed at a music festival, or Franko B’s You Me Nothing in a modern art gallery. One-on-one will not be pigeonholed. Stop trying.

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11 July, 2010

The Comedy of Errors

Sophie  Roberts and Daniel Weyman in The Comedy of Errors

Sophie Roberts and Daniel Weyman in The Comedy of Errors. Image courtesy of The Corner Shop

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre, 24 June – 31 July 2010

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

The first and final scenes of this open-air Comedy of Errors feel dashed off, as if director Philip Franks couldn’t be bothered to do much with them. This isn’t as big a problem as it might be in a different play: The Comedy of Errors is mostly middle.

Franks appears to have judged, by no means incorrectly, that the sob story Egeon (Christopher Ravenscroft) feeds the Duke (Alister Cameron) in scene one isn’t nearly as important to the audience as it is to Egeon (who is, after all, telling it in order to secure himself a stay of execution). Adoptions and shipwrecks don’t concern us. All we need to know is that two sets of estranged identical twins are about to be set loose in Ephesus and hilarity, as they say, will ensue.

So yes, the opening scene is interminable, there’s little evidence of “grief unspeakable” in Ravenscroft’s performance and as such his climactic reunion with his wife and sons is emotionally flat. But as soon as Egeon yields the stage to the twin Antipholi and Dromios, Franks and the audience alike sit up and start paying attention.

The production has a fantastic sense of fun, embracing the absurdity of the play’s premise and embellishing it with brand new absurdities, like unexpected song and dance numbers and Scooby-Doo-style pursuits with mobs racing past people hidden in convenient wicker baskets.

The contrasting relationships of the Antipholi (Daniels Weyman and Llewelyn-Williams) to their respective Dromios (Joseph Kloska and Josh Cohen) are convincingly fleshed out: Ephesian Dromio (Cohen) is beaten and put-upon by his wealthy master (Llewelyn-Williams) but they always make up in the end, while the less affluent Syracusan pair are on a more equal footing.

This means that when the Antipholi unwittingly swap Dromios or vice versa, as they inevitably must, there’s an extra level of humour to enjoy. One Dromio leaves in search of bail money for Antipholus and another returns with a bit of rope – that’s worth a giggle. But when Ephesian Antipholus, used to getting his own way, is faced with a Dromio who isn’t used to taking orders, hilarity ensues.

Perhaps if Franks had paid as much attention to Egeon’s characterisation as to the twins’, the production could have gained yet another layer, this time of poignancy. But this production gets belly laughs from a capacity crowd using Elizabethan dialogue, so I say, who needs depth when hilarity is ensuing?

Written by William Shakespeare

Crew includes Philip Franks (director), Gideon Davey (designer), Quinny Sacks (movement director), Paul Frankish (musical director)

Cast includes Alister Cameron (Duke), Josh Cohen (Dromio of Ephesus), Joseph Kloska (Dromio of Syracuse), Daniel Llewelyn-Williams (Antipholus of Ephesus), Christopher Ravenscroft (Egeon), Daniel Weyman (Antipholus of Syracuse)

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18 June, 2010

Wild Horses

Theatre 503, 15 June – 10 July 2010

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

Don’t try to deviate from your designated channel through life. It only leads to heartbreak: lost friends and unfulfilled ambitions for Ellie (Jessica Clarke), the main character in Nimer Rashed’s Wild Horses, and a near-fatal final act derailment for the play itself.

Seventeen-year-old Ellie (that’s Eleanor, not Elizabeth) is welcomed gingerly back to Eastbourne after six months AWOL with an older man. Her eyes have been opened just enough to take the shine off the idea of a job in Tesco’s and two point four children with sweet but goofy on-again-off-again Darren (John Trindle).

Meanwhile the friends and family she left behind have – discourteously – failed to stay the way she left them, so she can’t even lord her new-found worldliness over them. Her Dad’s transferred his fatherly affection to Carol Vorderman, her best mate Zoe’s about to turn the tables and abandon her for the bright lights of Camp America – even Darren smokes a pipe now.

In short, Ellie would have been happier accepting the hand life dealt her, instead of chasing romance and ambition. Her guilt over disappearing makes her incapable of refusing anything she’s exhorted to promise, which leads to a string of broken oaths, until no one trusts her but the reassuring, though mysteriously recurring, Tom Kanji.

All of which is captivating enough, but though Rashed’s plot threads are many-hued and skilfully interwoven, all but one is hacked off and left to dangle. What’s more, the one that is given some closure isn’t introduced – or even really hinted at – until the final act.

What Rashed’s going for is a daring last-minute rug-pull à la Theatre503′s last big hit, The Mountaintop. Ideally the rug should be swept stylishly out from under us, exposing the glass floor below, so we realise with wonderment that all along the play was not what we unimaginatively assumed it was. What actually happens is the rug snags, and we’re left sprawled on bruised behinds, humiliated, birdies circling our heads as we squint uncomprehendingly at the Dadaist magic-eye ceiling tiles, until the play apologises, replaces the now-ragged rug and pretends the whole incident never happened.

It’s never a mistake to dare to try something bold and different. But as Ellie learns, when it turns out you were wrong, admitting it – to yourself and others – is the only way to move on.

Written by Nimer Rashed

Crew includes Nadia Latif (director) and Lorna Ritchie (designer)

Cast includes Jade Anouka (Zoe), Jessica Clarke (Ellie Porter), Amanda Daniels (Jen Porter), Tom Kanji (Dr Gupta/Satyajit/Shanti), Patrick Toomey (Paul Porter) and John Trindle (Darren)

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23 April, 2010

Austen’s Women

Rebecca Vaughan in Austen's Women

Rebecca Vaughan in Austen's Women. Image courtesy of Mobius Industries

Leicester Square Theatre, 21 April – 9 May 2010

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

The extracts that make up Austen’s Women – each one taken near enough verbatim from Jane Austen’s novels – have been selected to show off the range of adapter-performer Rebecca Vaughan’s acting ability just as much as that of Austen’s female characters.

In fact, it’s possible Vaughan prioritised keeping herself entertained, with as wide a variety of temperaments and mannerisms as possible, over celebrating Austen’s women. Though her adoration for the material is palpable, the whole 70 minute monologue has the air of an audition piece, designed to impress on an agent the performer’s versatility – and to be fair, she is versatile – in as short a time as possible.

So while we get to see Vaughan being austere as Mrs Norris, conspiratorial as Emma Woodhouse and in pieces as Marianne Dashwood all in the space of ten minutes, over the course of the fourteen extracts banal and trivial observations are disproportionately represented.

For every Mary Stanhope – who in her naivete unwittingly embodies the transactional nature of marriage at the time – there’s a Miss Bates, who prattles uninterestingly about the guests and the décor. For every socially conscious Lizzy Bennet, there’s a vacuous Diana Parker. Banality may have been women’s reluctant lot in the 18th century, but Austen is still celebrated today partly because her heroines struggled against that.

Austen was a novelist, not a dramatist, so her prose speeches aren’t guaranteed sparkling life on stage. While he successfully identifies this pitfall, director Guy Masterson solves it – as he does most things script-related – by having his star lay on the tics and mannerisms with distracting vigorousness.

Harriet Smith gets Tony Blair’s fractured diction; Mary Stanhope is noticeably blinky; Mary Musgrove and Mrs Elton both get a fan to occupy their hands; and every line is assigned a rigid pattern of pause, emphasis and acceleration that mask meaning like explanatory sticky-notes all over the pages of a novel.

Unsurprisingly the most affecting extracts are those with the least directorial interference. While Marianne’s sobbing and wailing make it hard to follow what she’s actually trying to say, the deadpan, uninflected verbal cataracts of Mrs Norris erode all obstacles between the audience and Austen’s still-enduring sentiments.

Written by Rebecca Vaughan after Jane Austen

Crew includes Guy Masterson (director) and Kate Flanaghan (costume designer & maker)

Cast includes Rebecca Vaughan (various roles)

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11 April, 2010

Porn – the Musical

Theatre 503, 10 April – 1 May 2010

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

It’s fair to assume that few people watch porn for the plot, and it’s best to take the same approach to Porn – the Musical. Erase the phrase “But what about…” from your vocabulary and you’ll find a pretty entertaining hour of musical theatre scattered through the two-hour running time.

The book acknowledges and embraces the leaps of logic and sketchy characterisation typically associated with porn and bad musicals alike. The whole production is suffused with a sense of fun, distilled in a couple of life-affirmingly glorious puns and some knowingly silly choreography (covering naïve Stefan’s (Brendan Cull) modesty with convenient towels and beach balls in ‘Naked on a Sunday’); and the whole cast commit to their roles with devil-may-care abandon.

The lyrics are often stretched a bit to fit the meter or rhyme, and there are too few energetic numbers in the second act, but there are one or two gems – chiefly those featuring hung-but-dumb porn stud Dr Johnny Long, PHD (Alain Terzoli). Johnny’s poppy introductory number is the highlight of the first act, and his entrance peps up an otherwise forgettable first act closer.

Unfortunately the fun stuff is heavily watered down with awkward metatheatrical asides.

First there’s a totally extraneous narrator (Malcolm Galea, one of the writers) who turns up with irksome regularity to recap things we saw two minutes ago, and to summarise thoughts and feelings we really should be discovering through the performances.

Then, throughout, the cast drop out of character to explain scenic devices to one another, a tendency embodied by the Miscellaneous Man (Ahmet Ahmet). He plays all the minor roles, and the other performers keep confusing whom he’s playing when, a joke that relies on jolting the audience out of their engrossment in the show. He even gets a number about how the rest of the company don’t appreciate him.

That’s not even the only purposeless number; the second act starts with the cast berating latecomers through song, and the show ends with a full-cast ballad devoted solely to informing the audience that the show’s over and they can go home.

The problem in a nutshell seems to be that the writers wanted to write about musical theatre – to poke gentle, self-effacing fun at its archetypes, tropes and clichés – but somehow accidentally wrote a musical about porn instead.

Written by Boris Cezek, Malcom Galea, Abigail Guan and Kris Spiteri

Crew includes Paul Robinson (director), Ally Holmes (choreographer/assistant director) and Rachael Canning (designer)

Cast includes Ahmet Ahmet (Miscellaneous Man), David Burt (Marvin), Brendan Cull (Stefan), Malcolm Galea (Narrator), Jody Peach (Jade), Alain Terzoli (Dr Johnny) and Sophia Thierens (Sanddy)

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10 April, 2010

Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train

Ricky Fearon and Ricky Copp in Jesus Hopped the 'A' Train

Ricky Fearon and Ricky Copp in Jesus Hopped the 'A' Train. Image by Keith Pattison

Trafalgar Studios, 8 – 24 April 2010

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

Angel knows putting an educational bullet in a man’s backside isn’t the same as attempted murder. Lucius has found Jesus, and is busy atoning for multiple homicide through prayer. For Mary Jane, successfully defending a (technically) guilty man is a thrill she can’t do without. And Officer Valdez sleeps sound at night knowing his charges had their chances and blew ‘em, so anything he does to them is a consequence of their own actions.

Every character in Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train is at peace with who they are and the things they’ve done. This isn’t how prison dramas begin; it’s where they typically end.

This, then, is not a journey of redemption in the Hollywood sense. Practically the opposite, in fact. The characters – two inmates, one Puerto Rican one African-American, two guards and a lawyer, all white – spend the play chipping away at each other’s ivory towers, eventually leaving them all defenceless, divested of their comfortable rationalisations.

The implication is an uncomfortable one: that there may be some acts, some decisions, that we shouldn’t be allowed the luxury of coming to amicable terms with.

Because Stephen Adly Guirgis invests every one of his characters with the necessary wit to systematically dismantle the others’ worldviews, the dialogue – and it’s a dialogue-heavy play and no mistake – crackles like regiments exchanging salvos. As befits that martial aspect it’s riddled with profanity; but it’s also eloquent and lyrical. Lucius (Ricky Fearon) in particular sways with the compelling vocal cadences of a proselytising preacher.

In his mouth – and in Angel’s stuttering one, and through Mary Jane’s clipped, honest phrasing – the play’s philosophy, however uncomfortable to contemplate, sounds like the only one that makes the slightest sense.

Written by Stephen Adly Guirgis

Crew includes Esther Baker (director) and Katy McPhee (set designer)

Cast includes Ricky Copp (D’Amico), Ricky Fearon (Lucius Jenkins), Denise Gough (Mary Jane Hanrahan), Theo Jones (Angel Cruz) and Dominic Taylor (Valdez)

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