REVIEW: Private Lives, Vaudeville Theatre, 19 March 2010

Neither with you nor without you.

Of course there are an awful lot of "Oh Dear"s involved. And an awful lot of "Awful"s and "Positively"s and "Precisely"s and all sorts of adverbs that tell us that we are, unmistakenly, in a 1920s-1930s comedy of high society and misunderstandings. There's also quite a repeated use of the word "Cad" (to describe Matthew Macfadyen's character) which makes the audience cringe and feel nostalgic at the same time.

It's a thoroughly predictable affair, the way ex-husband and wife Elyot and Amanda meet each other after years while on their respective honeymoons with their respective, adequately dull and pathetic, new partners. One gets out the theatre with a terrible urge to pop in one's DVD copy of The Philadelphia Story. That's usually the case with Noel Coward, isn't it? - Not that I know, as this was my first Noel Coward production.

But underneath all that wit and charm and misunderstanding and inspired one-liners (my favourite American sitcom, Frasier, owes so much to Coward, after all) one appreciates the touch of darkness, the violence and, above all, the frank depiction of sex and sexual desire the play offers. Richard Eyre's production is incredibly charming and aptly superficial; there are many interesting things about these characters but they are never explored, except by chance and perhaps by the actors accidentally scratching beneath the surface. No matter how much I enjoyed the performance I was a bit underwhelmed by the shallowness of the whole business; and by the audience incapacity to follow theatre etiquette. I wondered: Have this people never been to a play before? There was clapping during the performance, and talking and general rudeness.

(As a side note, yes, I agree with the elderly woman in the first row with us: 49 pounds IS A SCAM for what can only be described as "restricted view" seats. We paid them because we have been waiting to see Matthew Macfadyen for ages, but it is a scandal. For some mysterious reason the Vaudeville's usual policy of having Day Tickets didn't apply to this play, possibly because of the limited run. So yes, we were utterly robbed.)

As for the acting, the ensemble worked very well. It was a strong cast and the performance had no cracks on its armour. Kim Catrall didn't jar but she wasn't impressive either - she had easily the most likeable character of the four and did well with it, even if a couple of times she didn't ring as true as she should: her confusion and conflicted emotions upon finding herself attracted to Elyot again lacked the honesty of Macfadyen's reactions, for one. Her Amanda is charming and sympathetic, but there's the nagging feeling she could have done so much more with the part. Predictably (at least for us, because we rate him so) Matthew Macfadyen delivered the best performance; more aware that he is actually in a tragedy within a comedy, his Elyot is appalling, short-tempered and sexist, but his claims at flippancy are only skin-deep. There was a moment when he declares "I'm depressed" to Amanda's husband and sits on stage like a beaten dog, and what at first drew laughs from the audience in a moment of true theatrical magic turned into a moment of genuine emotion, as Macfadyen allowed Elyot a bit of self-reflection and loneliness. And on top of all that, he is amazingly funny. His perfomance was unusual, his Elyot nervous and exquisitely camp at times - one almost wishes Macfadyen to reprise Colin Firth's role in Relative Values, also by Coward. Simon Paisley Day and Lisa Dillon are both excellent as Amanda's and Elyot's mismatched new partners and as clichéd as their roles might be they never forget to add that touch of subtle humanity to their characters. The four actors have perfect comic timing and the humour of the play relies so much on the physical, refreshing when considered how verbal Coward's wit is.

All in all, the play might not haunt our memory as a life-changing experience, but it sure was a good night out.


Other reviews:
The Guardian.
musicOMH.
There Ought To Be Clowns.
West End Whingers.
Telegraph.

Review: Ghosts, Duchess Theatre, 20 March 2010

I think Ibsen is an acquired taste: I came upon this revelation during my trip to Sheffield to see An Enemy of the People at the gorgeous new Crucible. I mean, the first time I encountered Ibsen (at college) I didn't like it very much. And even when I saw new versions by authors I like (Lucy Kirkwood's Hedda) or excellent productions (the Donmar's A Doll's House) I remained lukewarm.

Then last year I attended a small rehearsed reading of Ghosts at the Young Vic, version via Frank McGuiness, directed by Ian Glenn and with Lesley Sharp and my favourite Tom Brooke as mother and son. It was a powerful piece of theatre, despite it being a reading (although many of my favourite theatrical experiences have come by the way of readings) and started turning my head around about Ibsen. I guess it will always remain my favourite work from him and even if the scandal that the mentioning of syphillis caused in Ibsen's era might sound alien to modern audience Ghosts is every bit as much a poignant, taxing and moving play as when it was written.

So why is it that the power of that rehearsed reading doesn't translate as well to a finished production? Even though I didn't dislike this play as much, I can understand the sense of bafflement from one of my favourite theatre bloggers about the piece. I still think the early notices are unfair but there is something severly lacking here. It's not the actors - Lesley Sharp is as fabulous and refreshing as ever, she gives an unhindered Mrs.Alving and that performance only is worth the money of the ticket. Glenn's Manders is as spineless in comparsion as he should be, on the verge of pathetic but sympathetic just for that. Harry Treadaway does a comendable job in a hard, vital role - but I'm afraid that I spent most of the play remembering Harry Lloyd's take on the character in the Arcola production last year. Lloyd's Oswald will be hard to forget in years to come, I'm afraid, but still Treadaway seems like a great hope for the future, we must remember his stage debut was only last year, and he did brilliantly, in Mark Ravenhill's Over There. I was also cheered by the presence of Jessica Raine as Regina: I feel as if I had seen this girl grow up, after her great performances in Harper Regan and Gethsemane at the National.

Maybe it was the elaborated set and costumes; although I appreciated the airy and well-lit stage, a change from the usual dark and somber productions. Maybe the play worked better in the reading because of its rawness, with minimal props and some light effects. Maybe it's that I believe this play should be performed without interval. Maybe it was the early notices affecting the whole mood. Whatever the case, I didn't find it as poignant. The audience, icy, might have contributed. I left the theatre (after spotting Dominic Cooke some seats behind me, by the way) oddly unsatisfied.

Other reviews:
The Telegraph.
musicOMH.
There Ought To Be Clowns.
The Londonist.
The Independent.

Review: The Caretaker, Trafalgar Studios, 15 January 2010

Despite his horrible career choices (bad movies and questionable musicals) there's no doubt Jonathan Pryce is one of the most talented actors one can ever hope to see. His performance last year in the Donmar's Dimetos was one of the most remarkable theatrical experiences of my life. And this Caretaker might not be as touching as that but it is still an intense pleasure of a night at the theatre.

The marriage between Pinter's always sharp and eternally fresh writing and Pryce's talent is a winning combination. Pryce's Davies, the tramp that finds himself inmersed in a confuse powerplay between two brothers as he just tries to land a place to sleep in, dominates the scene with more energy than one would have imagined. His principal drive is mistrust, almost paranoia but the audience begins to share his suspicions as Peter McDonald's Aston and Sam Spruell's Mick turn out to be more than meets eye in this attractive production, transferred to the Trafalgar after its success.

The production itself is a bit flat at times - I'd like more darkness, a lot more of surrealism - but it is greatly effective and I could tell the audience was having a great time, which often is a tricky thing with Pinter, so wonderfully weird he is. And the actors were superbly directed. In such a tight and tense three-handler it is vital to have everybody working at top game. Peter McDonald had already caught my eye alongside Pryce in the West End revival of Glengarry Glen Ross and here he proves to be a relieable actors with a great stage presence- his Aston is very alien and detached, he feels hollowed out and when the reveal of his past in the mental hospital comes around it all clicks into place. He can seem helpless and edgy at the same time. At first I had my doubts about Spruell and his thuggish Mick but by the end of the play I was won over; his is a complex and clever performance, he gives the character pathos and charisma without losing the sense of threat. Both actors should be very happy of not only keeping their ground against a formidable Pryce but also completing him, and achieving that often elusive animal: a united, coherent cast.


Other reviews:
The Guardian.
musicOMH.
The Independent.
The Telegraph.
The Times.

Review: The Misanthrope, Comedy Theatre, 14 Dec 09

First a head-up: I do like Keira Knightley. I think in the hands of good directors she can give very good performances. So unlike 90% of the blogosphere I went to the theatre with a positive opinion of her and willing to cut the girl some slack.

We saw a very preview-ish preview of The Misanthrope. They were still trying things out with the lightning and the actors still seemed unsure of their choices about the characters. I can predict that the play will get better and better along the run. Knightley seemed like the new girl, yes, not in terms of her ability but in the sense that it was clear she was the one with the least experience onstage. That should also fix itself within the next weeks of playing.

This particular version of Moliere's play (for many his masterpiece & I have to admit my personal favourite as well) is Martin Crimp's adaptation from 1995, with the necessary tinkering to adapt it to 2009 of course.

It's all a bit childish, really and I must admit I was amused by the pettiness of some of the play's attacks on out Tabloid Society; Crimp delivers some very funny turns of phrase and the verse works perfectly. There's an adolescent delight in his own cleverness that I enjoy, even if it's not proper memorable theatre. Delight, yes, there's a lot of that, and a lot of fun but I think the play loses gravitas and importance through this version and it's hard to fully engage with a story where the characters doesn't seem to have so much at stake in the first place. It doesn't seem like Alceste is a honest hero whose desire for truth at any cost might get him into trouble. You never feel that his convictions are that important to him, just that he lives to annoy and oppose, just because it amuses him. That makes his infatuation with Jennifer - who seems to embody all he detests but not really - lose a lot of his punch.

It's a solid cast but some of the acting choices I wasn't so keen on. In part it might be the writing but Damian Lewis' Alceste is not the champion of honesty we were waiting for. He is childish and rude, not straightforward, and Lewis plays him in a way that's easy to caricaturize him. He is not very sympathetic, specially when he turns jealous boyfriend to Jennifer. We see him as shallow from the beginning so his fall from grace doesn't affect us as it should. Lewis is a very good actor, and very funny, and he could make an extraordinary Alceste - see him in Friends and Crocodiles - if he chose to play him with some more weight to his philosophy. And I could have done with less histrionics.

On the other hand Keira Knightley is not as good an actor as Lewis and yet her choices were, in my opinion, smarter. Through Knightley we see Jennifer as someone that's more like Alceste than not and she has the intelligence to highlight this, giving us reasons why he fell in love with her in the first time. Jennifer is smart, sharp, and sees things as they are, and it's a very conscious choice for her to follow the rules of the game. There's hypocrisy to her, but Knightley makes sure that the audience understands it's a kind of hypocrisy radically different to that of people around her and Alceste. There's a cruel streak to her that's quite ugly but she charms her way out of it. Alceste's demands on her are absurd and many a time the audience finds themselves siding with Jennifer.

Thea Sharrock surrounds her two leads with a strong supporting cast. It's wonderful to see Tara Fitzgerald on stage again, after her impressive performance in the Donmar's A Doll's House; here she plays Marcia, Jennifer's old acting teacher, and her performance is positively larger-than-life. Even if it's no acting challenge, Fitzgerald adds no little technique and charm to her part.

Of all people on stage that night Dominic Rowan was the one to make most of an impression on me and my theatre-going companion, despite his limited stage-time. He seemed most at easy with the verse and gave a calm, seemingly effortless performance. I look forward to seeing more of him in the future. Kelly Price offers a great performance as tabloid journalist and professional traitor Ellen, and seems - with Dominic Rowan - like the most relaxed of them all onstage. The supporting cast is all very efficent but still struggling to really shine, unpolished. It must be hard handling with characters that are more caricatures than actual people.

I loved the set, huge and cold, and some of the direction and design was very clever - specially the ending, with a very adequate mood of a zombie movie. It was less of an "event" that journalists might want to see in it, indeed it was proper theatre, even if some of its elements weren't totally satisfying for me.

There's is something just obvious enough about casting Keira Knightley in a play that deals with and ridicules our obssession with celebrities and shallow fame. The play's delight with its own cleverness steps over the line of being too much but never crosses it, never goes into Rupert Goold Territory of Obvious. So it's still good fun.

Martin Crimp writes about this revival.

Reviews:
The Guardian.
The Times.
The Independent.
Whatsonstage.
Webcowgirl.

Speaking in Tongues Q&A at the Duke of York's

My only complain about the otherwise perfect Speaking in Tongues revival is that the Duke of York's is the wrong place to have it on. So I feel sort of vindicated when I heard Toby Frow insinuating the same concern, and saying that his first options had been off-West End and that it had been the producer's decision to move the play to a different, wider (and in my opinion, wrong) audience. Now we can only dream how wonderful this production would have been in the Almeida.

The highlight of the Q&A Whatsonstage.com event with director and cast (minus John Simm) was of course Ian Hart's repetition of his well-known stand on "hating theatre". Nevermind, cause he does offer a good and coherent argument for it and I, personally, have nothing to protest about his belief. I think it's his right and I think it's admirable that he says so with honesty. But eyebrows were raised upon hearing this:

Ian Hart: That’s what I hate about theatre. What Kerry’s just outlined as a pleasure and a joy to me is an intrusion on what I do for a living. The audience, I can’t stand you. Collectively, not individually, I’m sure you’re all lovely people, but as a collective entity I find you abhorrent. I genuinely don’t understand from your side of that divide what it is that you want. That’s up to you to decide, what it is you come in with, whatever it is you want to get out of this experience. As far as I’m concerned, it ends at the edge of the stage and I work on the stage with my colleagues, tell the story, and obey the writer’s instructions and the director’s intentions. What you get out of it is entirely up to you. I don’t feel it’s my responsibility to respond to your laughter, your crisp packets. It’s not my responsibility to take on board.

You can read/hear the rest of the Q&A at the Whatsonstage.com website.

Little Voice, Vaudeville Theatre, 9 October 2009

Photograph: PR

There's a line Jeanette Winterson says when referring to Virginia Woolf's Orlando and the enthusiastic reaction it got from readers: "They (people) did not understand it but it charmed them."

The same sentiment could be used to describe "Little Voice" and its singular misguiding nature.

It is a charming play and it's easily misconstructed by the audience as a feel-good, uplifting play. Its structure suggests a simpler play than it really is. Of course it helps that this is a West End revival and the girl playing LV comes from the world of X-factor.

But (like the equally misjudged "Speaking in Tongues" at the Duke of York's right now) this is not a West End play and though it has enough going for it to woo a West End audience I dare say few people sitting around me at one of the preview nights stopped and thought just how extraordinary a play this "Little Voice" is.

This is not your usual West End musical it is a piece of poetry. Jim Cartwright is a poet. His language is extraordinarily experimental but it comes wrapped up in what Marc Warren calls a "northern showbiz fairytale". There are songs and good feelings and a budding, cute romance amidst the tragedy and wasted chances of these characters' lives. The play paints quite a dark picture of these dead-end people, of brash, loud, selfish Mari (Lesley Sharp) and her shy, anti-social daughter (Diana Vickers), and the chancer, has-been disaster that is the charming Ray (Marc Warren).

It's a redeeming and familiar enough story: LV, shy and self-confined to her room and her late fatheer's records gets out in the world through her extraordinary gift, a voice that can mimick those of the great singers: Judy Garland, Edith Piaf, Shirley Bassey. Exploited by her dissatisfied and uncaring mother and a manipulative manager LV ultimately escapes the clutches of her opressive family life and finds love and freedom.

It is at times Disney-like fable and at times grim, tough Jimmy McGovern-ish Northern social drama.

It's curious to see how this revival sells one point but then the actual production doesn't turn its back on the other. It shouldn't blend well but it does. I suspect there's a lot of irony in Cartwright's assumed happy ending but there's a lot of heart, too. It's a complicated ending, too. It offers hope but few answers.

Although I think Lez Brotherston's girating set was a bit distracting at times I appreciated that Mari's house was every bit as ordinary and bleak as her life, and that they didn't prettied-up or clean the set for a more conventional audience than the one Jim Cartwright usually writes to (not for, I don't think he writes for anyone but himself). The production - despite the glittery posters and heavy pr campaign - doesn't shy from the darker themes of the story and, for example, the heartstopping last fight between Mari and LV is a perfect example, wonderfully pathetic and raw.

And the asset of this production is its cast, so that the GORGEOUS prose of Cartwright's get to shine as it deserves:

Mari: "You've always been a little voice and you've never liked much, to speak and such, but this thing you've developed could make us Ray reckons. Don't know where the hell it's come from, such a quiet lonely thing you've always been. I could almost fit you in my two hands as a babe. I don't know if it's the drink but I keep seeing you tonight as our little LV there, little pale chil' in me arms, or in the old pram there, that lemon coloured crocheted blanket around you, tiny good-as-gold face in the wool. I'm sorry for the way I am love at times, it seems to be the way I am. It seems to be something..."

Of course most people turned up at the theatre wondering if X-factor contestant Diana Vickers was up to the challenge. Well, yes and no. I have never seen X-factor so I had no previous reference, and I wasn't particularly concerned where she was coming from, as long as she was able to do a decent job. She is not a very good actress but she is not a very bad one, either. She fits the part of LV in a way that makes her believable. At least I believed her. She is sympathetic and the scenes with LV's love interest (played by the playwright's son, James Cartwright) carry the perfect balance of cuteness and embarrasment. But Vickers is not a great singer so when the times comes for LV to shine the moment is just a little underwhelming. But all in all she doesn't hurt the production irrevocably.

It was interesting to see two of my favourite actors acting together for the first time; although both Marc Warren and Lesley Sharp were pretty much in their comfort zones with this one. That doesn't diminish their merit, of course, but I always enjoy my favourites when they are doing something new (like Warren did with "The Pillowman"). Sharp is a veteran Cartwright-ist, having been in the first production of his seminal (& people use this adjective far too often but here I mean it) play, "Road" and her skills for both lyrical and down-to-earth moments makes her the perfect Mari, as if the role had been written for her. And Warren is used to play charmers so he is at home with Ray, but he also shows his capacity for pathos in the wonderful scene where Ray breaks down at the club.

It is always wonderful to see such gifted actors doing their thing.

"Little Voice" is a rare thing; it's a show that I utterly love but also I show I would recommend to everyone for very different reasons to those why I love it. Whether you are looking for a bit of West End escapism or for a searching, lyrical piece of art, you will leave the theatre satisfied. Cheered up even.

Read Marc Warren's diary of the production.

Reviews:
The Stage.
The Guardian.
The Telegraph.
musicOMH.

SIX CHARACTERS IN SEARCH OF AN AUTHOR, Gielgud Theatre, Oct 2008

I wasn't specially impressed with Rupert Goold's production of Macbeth but it was a nice enough night out, but this re-imagining of Pirandello's superb piece puts the last nail on the coffin of my relationship with this director.

Both for me and the people I went to see it with this was the most excruciating theatre experience of our lives. I'm not saying Goold doesn't have good ideas, he does, but he overworks them and puts them in your face and everything in the production turns out to be so obvious and over-stretched. He should have cut at least one hour off the production. The ending was a good idea but he overdid it so much it felt banal instead. The whole direction went against the spirit of the play. Where Pirandello succeeds in being interesting and rising questions through humour and light touches and subtlety Goold and Ben Power come in heavy and patronizing and too much "serious business". We spent the whole time screaming "WE GOT IT ALREADY! MOVE ON!" inside our heads.

A shame, because a lot of money and talent (fantastic sound design, by the way) was put into the enterprise.

The only shining light of hope in this dark evening was Dyfan Dwyfor, whom we had already liked in that underdog, cute British indie film The Baker, and who continues to be a delight even amidst this horrendous "adaptation".

Reviews:
Independent.
Telegraph.
Guardian.
musicOMH.
West End Whingers.

RIFLEMIND, Trafalgar Studios, Sept 08

Trafalgar Studios failed to make the hat-trick for us. After the great experiences of Elling and Dealer's Choice we went in to see Riflemind with hope in our hearts (more so since we really love John Hannah), only to have it crushed by reality.

The reality is, this is a bad play, there's no way around it. This story (?) about the strangled reunion of a rock band with their one-time lead musician (now living a normal life far from the glitter of rock glamour) is weak, unfocused and unexciting. None of the characters is particularly well-drawn or particularly interesting and it all looks like a washed-up version of a play (or movie) we've seen a thousand times before. It was predictable, and worse, it was utterly boring.

Poor John Hannah did what he could, with the script he had been given. It's a shame cause he would be amazing in a more worthy enterprise - his skills and charisma made the night almost bearable for the audience. He took the scantilly-written character of John, burned out Scottish singer and songwriter, and he tried to steered him far from the clichés he had been written into. Hannah was a courageous performer but he was ultimately foiled by the low quality of Andrew Upton's writing.

We can also save from the disaster Susan Prior, playing wife to John Hannah's has-been rocker. She wasn't spectacular but she was decent enough, which is more than I can say of the rest of the cast.

For more than 40 pounds the seat I (writer, unemployed) came out of the theatre feeling completely cheated.

Reviews:
Guardian.
Independent.
Telegraph.
The British Theatre Guide.

Under The Blue Sky, Duke of York's, 23 July 2008

Most annoying laugh was seated behind us. Ruined the night. People need to develop manners. Or you know, a less annoying laugh.

Catherine Tate was irritating when comic and limited when dramatic. Chris O'Dowd excelled at being an asshole - great change from his usual adorable self in "The IT Crowd".

Nigel Lindsay and Francesca Annis stole the show, thankfully.

Apparently teachers are a f****d-up lot. They are still sexy, though.

David Eldridge is a bloody hero.

Fat Pig, Trafalgar Studios, 16 Jul 2008

Robert Webb was quite better than expected. Not that I didn't expected him to be good. He just was even better than I thought he would.

Nice, clean, effective production. I enjoyed listening to the White Stripes during the scene changes.

I still like the Spanish version (¡Gorda!) with Luis Merlo and Iñaki Miramón much, much better. But maybe because it had Luis Merlo and Iñaki Miramón in it.

Neil LaBute is always a good night out, in any case. And giving more money to the Trafalgar (it will always be my favourite theatre, for there I saw Elling) doesn't hurt quite as much.

Girlcrush Alert.

Succesfully purchased tickets for the Donmar's version of Ivanov in the fall. Matinee and extremely expensive, but still.

Am I betraying David Hare's delicious version? (I am unimpressed by Tom Stoppard as a whole)

Who cares? I AM GOING TO SEE ANDREA RISEBOROUGH!

God of Carnage, Gielgud Theatre, 3 Apr 2008

I somehow had forgotten how hilarious Ralph Fiennes could be.

Great fun of a play, one is thankful for the lack of interval and although I wish Tamsin Grieg's character had a bit more flash, all in all there's little to complain about in Reza's comedy. I am sure it dealt with many great themes but seriously, I couldn't be bothered with a deep analysis of it.

As the big fan of Takin Over the Asylum that I am I enjoyed seeing Ken Stott on stage a great deal, too.

This is probably the kind of play one could recommend to practically everyone, it's a crow-pleaser and for once I don't use that expression with as much disdain as I could.

The Lover/The Collection, Comedy Theatre, 27 Feb 2008

Charlie Cox was very good in it. Like very VERY good. Colour me surprised. A star is born.

The rest of the thing was excellent as well. One has to love Pinter's playfulness, always. Great set design and with Gina McGee (I was so excited upon seeing her) and Timothy West in the cast very few things can go wrong.

Friggin expensive, though. Worth it, anyway.