All entries for January 2008

January 31, 2008

Not torn anymore

I caved. I bought the Twelfth Night ticket . That’s another £34 down the drain, but at least it’s another front row seat!

Weak, weak, weak.


Scenes From a Marriage @ The Belgrade Theatre

The Belgrade in Coventry, despite being one of the closest theatres to home, is not a venue I am usually inclined to visit. The bulk of the programme is made up travelling shows such as The Buddy Holly Story or The Motown Show and, since Gadi Roll’s departure, the more interesting looking theatrical highlights such as von Schiller’s The Robbers have disappeared from the programme.

However, the first post-panto production of 2008 is by far the largest and has been drawing far wider audiences than its usual local punters. Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes From A Marriage, directed by Trevor Nunn and starring Imogen Stubbs and Iain Glen, was completely sold out last night, and despite my complaints about the ticketing fiasco, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

The production was structured as the title suggests, as a series of divided episodes. Between each scene, projections of family home videos were shown (the only times we ever saw the central couple’s two young children) and a number announced which scene we were now embarking on. The scenes were further divided by lengthy scene changes – usually a bugbear with me, but here it had purpose, physically separating each scene from the one before, even if it was just minor adjustments to the furniture in the same room.

Imogen Stubbs and Iain Glen were rivetting in the central roles. From their earliest scenes as a couple very much in love, through the gradual accumulation of problems, the shock scene where Johan declares he is leaving Marianne, their subsequent affairs and divorce, Stubbs and Glen gave well-pitched performances as flawed characters seemingly incapable of reconciling their feelings with the reality of their lives.

The change in Marianne across the years was particularly effective. A bubbly housewife in the early scenes, happily disagreeing with Johan but often letting herself be spoken over, it was she who first voiced her doubts and fears about their relationship, wondering if it might spice things up if Johan had an affair. Yet it was Marianne we sympathised with when Johan walked out on her. This scene was one of particular power, the point at which the play moved up a gear and their fractured relationship became utterly absorbing. The sight of Marianne crawling across the floor on her knees to cling on to Johan, pleading with him to “Fuck me” was heartbreaking. Yet as the play continued and she came to terms with his departure, we found her wearing sexy dresses, drinking wine and entertaining a string of male friends, realising herself to be strong and confident.

Johan, meanwhile, was given less sympathy in the earlier scenes through a combination of arrogance and passivity, never taking a stance. This came through strongly early on when Marianne revealed she was pregnant, and Johan refused to express an opinion on this until she had given hers, then supporting her all the way. His weakness here was then immediately given a darker edge as we found that, despite his agreement that he wanted the baby, he then casually left Marianne in an abortion clinic in the following scene for her to go through with “their” choice by herself.

In many ways, his character was brought to life by his heartless rejection of Marianne, adding insult to injury by telling her he had despised her for years without saying a word. While the cruelness of his admission was inexcusable, his character from then on was actively engaged, even if in the wrong direction, and throughout the play we found him to be more sympathetic, more understanding. The honesty found through cruelness laid the foundations for what ultimately became a stronger relationship between the pair.

The second crunch scene came as the two met to sign their divorce papers. Despite being separated and in other relationships, the two had come to a tacit arrangement where they still occasionally slept together, and they began the signing in this way. Afterwards, drinking and talking, they started being truly honest with each other, increasingly unpleasant, until the scene culminated in an horrific fight, Johan eventually shoving Marianne to the floor and kicking her several times in the stomach mercilessly. The changes over this one scene were breathtaking, and Glen and Stubbs carried the whole thing to scarily believable effect.

These performances rendered superfluous the three other actors who occasionally appeared in scenes. In fact (apart perhaps from the warring couple who provided an early warning of what Johan and Marianne could become), I’m not convinced that the other characters brought anything particularly essential to the play at all, and every time they were on I found myself wanting to get back to just Johan and Marianne. The other performances were perfectly adequate, my feeling is just that the play would have been leaner and more effective as a two-hander.

As depressing as the subject matter may sound, though, the real pleasure of the production was the humour, which was all pervasive. From Johan’s withering comments about Ibsen to the hysterical drinking scene (pre-fight, of course) to the matter of fact way the divorced couple analysed their past together, Nunn drew out a surprising number of laughs which gave the play a real sense of comfortable warmth, making the obvious pain of events that little more bitter. Despite all their flaws, I found myself caring a great deal about the happiness of these two people.

Ultimately, too, I found the production uplifting. The final scenes brought the relationship full circle, with the remarried Johan and Marianne having a secret affair with each other, a hidden relationship which meant far more to them than their previous married life. The sweetness and tenderness with which they treated each other was touching, and drew out what seemed to me to be the point of the production: that love is an absolute, a tangible. Humans make mistakes, they don’t know how to express or handle love, and love is not enough by itself, but it’s there. Throughout all the trauma, even when physically fighting, love was present and there to be understood- it’s we who need to learn how to handle it.


January 28, 2008

Torn!

Argh, crisis of conscience!

I’ve just spent £68 on two front row (FRONT ROW!) tickets to see Jude Law in Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet at the Wyndhams in July 2009. That’s extreme advance booking for you.

But now I’m looking at Michael Grandage’s Twelfth Night, late this year. If I book now, I can get front row seats for that production too. But at the same time, I need to be saving for my holiday this summer.

It’s not FAIR (sulks).


January 26, 2008

Sweeney Todd @ Warwick Arts Centre

Timing a new musical production of Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd to coincide almost to the week with the major new Tim Burton film of the same show was either a stroke of genius or a foolhardy mistake. In terms of ticket sales, at least, Music Theatre Warwick’s gambit seems to have paid off, with barely a single empty seat in the main theatre at Warwick Arts Centre last night. It’s all credit to a student theatre society that they can pack out a 450 seat venue, demonstrating the clout and pulling power they have. Despite its success with sales, however, the show fell disappointingly short of the usual standards I’ve come to expect from the society.

It looked great, mind. The eerie chorus, their faces almost permanently in shadow (admittedly sometimes irritating – it would have been nice to be able to see them sing), were used to great visual effect, silhouetted against the red sky and backlit to cast long shadows across the stage. The set, all smoking chimneys and rickety stairs, was smart and efficient, lending a suitably seedy city feel to the stage, and the actors all looked the part.

Leo Miles (Sweeney Todd)

The biggest flaw in the production became apparent once people started moving. The show lacked any sense of fluidity, with actors traipsing on to their position, doing their bit and then traipsing off again. It looked from the auditorium as if all thought had been put into the still images (which looked impressive) but none at all into how the production was to move between them. A key example came at one particular moment when the chorus trooped in at stage left and right, arranged themselves at various levels around the stage, sang a few lines and then all turned round, wandered back up the stairs and off again. There was no problem with the image itself, but everything involved in setting it up and taking it off looked contrived and clunky.

This was emphasised by an unnecessary reliance on set changes and flying. It’s all very well having the barber’s chair descend from the ceiling, but then if you have to bring on two costumed stagehands to fiddle about with straps and ropes right in the middle of a scene, is it really worth it? A girder representing a ship (?) was lowered for Sweeney and Anthony’s first conversation, on the way managing to crash into the cellar, and yet this girder served no discernable purpose and created no effect. An enormous furnace was wheeled on and off stage at regular intervals which reduced the playing area by about a third, and oftentimes it was used for such minor things as the receipt of a single tray of pies.

Again, little thought seemed to have been put into what the cast were meant to do while these changes were going on. As Sweeney left Anthony to visit his old home, he wandered aimlessly halfway up a staircase while the set was adjusted, seemed to shrug, then wandered back down the way he came where Mrs. Lovett was now waiting for him. It looked exactly like what it was – getting the lead out of the way while a set change happens. Once or twice can be got away with, but throughout the production the links and changes came across as purposeless and ill-rehearsed. The production verged on three hours long, but greater attention to fluidity and smoothness, and less fussing about with the tech, could have brought this down by at least half an hour.

These constant interruptions put a great strain on the cast’s energy, which waxed and waned disappointingly. The first half hour was slow and dull, only really coming to life with the arrival of one of the finest performances I’ve seen in a student production this year- Jonny Rowland as Pirelli. Completely stealing the show, Rowland’s first appearance in yellow and a ludicrous Italian accent injected the life into the production that it desperately needed, and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy his all-too-brief time on stage.

Of the lead roles, it was Kate Scott’s Mrs. Lovett who shone the most. In a difficult role she kept up a constant patter and had excellent comic timing. Leo Miles in the title role was less impressive. Not a natural bass, he gave the part his best shot but seemed to really struggle with the fast dialogue songs, which require an enormous amount of vocal dexterity, which Scott managed to good effect. Miles was better as an actor, bringing some humanity to the role. He wasn’t well served in this by a programme note giving away the director’s entire plan for the character (let the actor show us himself!), but handled himself well and certainly looked the sinister part.

Sweeney Todd poster

In a very difficult vocal show, the only individual actor whose voice really seemed to meet the challenge was Suzi Power as Johanna, with a sublime singing voice that sounded imported from a different world. After the show a friend who has seen 11 different productions of the musical expressed his opinion that she was the best Johanna he’d ever seen, amateur or professional, and I would struggle to imagine a better one. Operating in a different league to the rest of the company, her appearances were brief glimmers of what the show could have been. An honourable mention, though, to Sam Walls for his awesome low bass.

Even the sense of horror (comic or serious) was given short shrift, and this was made more disappointing by the few times it was got right. Again, it was Pirelli who shone here. His casual upstrokes with his exposed blade had the audience quaking and screeching in discomfort, while Sweeney’s increasingly quick brushes over the throat had no effect whatsoever. Particularly in the second act, where plot overtakes the big numbers and the action was rushed through in the same jerky fashion, the only attempt to engage an audience in the action was through some piercingly loud screeching musical strings to accompany the moments of ‘horror’ (eg bodies appearing from the oven) which was annoying rather than scary.

It seems to me that Sweeney Todd was a stretch too far for MTW in its current form. Perhaps a smaller production in the Studio, with less time spent worrying about spectacle and more about slickness and pace, would have worked, but as this year’s main theatre show it was sadly lacking. Some really good moments (I haven’t mentioned the well-designed bedlam scene, one of the few scenes where the director and choreographer shone) couldn’t make up for a production that was slow and uneven throughout. As an amateur show it was decent, but MTW can be better than that.


January 19, 2008

Noughts and Crosses @ Stratford–upon–Avon Civic Hall

Creating theatre for teenagers is, I imagine, a very difficult thing. The audience for Noughts and Crosses, the RSC’s second play at the Civic Hall this winter, was made up at least 90% of school groups- talking, whispering, drawing attention to themselves, eating, texting, laughing. Within this kind of audience there is a great deal of cynicism, a determination to look cool in front of one’s peers by mocking the failings or themes of a play, and a need to be unimpressed by this thing that the teachers have dragged them to see. This is of course an enormous generalisation, but it’s very difficult to argue that this feeling doesn’t pervade the auditorium when a teenage audience is in the house. The challenge for theatre companies is how, faced with an audience prepared to be bored, do you engage them?

Dominic Cooke’s adaptation of Malorie Blackman’s Noughts and Crosses is squarely targetted at this age group. The story was told from the point of view of two teenagers experiencing love for the first time, trying to make sense of the world. It attempted to balance the important issues that the play raises – racism, intolerance, terrorism, abuse, alcoholism – with a snappy style that would prevent the audience from getting bored or feeling preached at. And it largely succeeded.

Noughts and Crosses poster

Relative newcomer Richard Madden shone in the central role of Callum, the clever white (‘Nought’) boy who has won a controversial place at the local ‘Cross’ school, usually reserved for black children. Blackman’s world is one governed and skewed in favour of black people, with white people restricted to substandard education and jobs. Her point was a simple but effective one, highlighting the issues of racism by reversing the usual stereotypes. Callum’s best friend Sephy was the daughter of the deputy prime minister, and the first half of the play followed their relationship as Callum’s presence at her school caused violence and hatred. Their own latent prejudices were also revealed, Sephy using the unforgivable word “blanca” to describe white people, while Callum’s bitterness at being part of the underclass led to him turning his back on Sephy.

Madden carried the bulk of the play, giving a believable and largely sympathetic (until his later actions) portrayal of a young man with high hopes being gradually broken down by society and prejudice. As Callum’s character grew darker, Madden continued drawing us with him through direct address, convincing in his beliefs if not his actions. This role was shared by Ony Uhiara as Sephy, who was less convincing in the more childlike of the two roles but came into her own in the second act as her high-society family also began to crumble and her innocence was slowly lost. Yet the outcome was left open, leaving us hoping against hope that there would be a happy ending for the two lovers.

The Romeo and Juliet element of the story was unmistakable, but the focus of Cooke’s production was on Callum’s family and the events that tore them apart as Callum’s sister committed suicide and his dad and brother joined an extremist group that led to terrorism. It was in the second act that the story really took off and went to places far darker than one would expect from a teen show. Callum’s growing extremist beliefs led him to reportedly kill many Crosses, and he was genuinely terrifying in the kidnap scene, treating Sephy roughly in prison and seemingly past all help or redemption. His ultimate execution was inevitable, and led a bleakness to this world where actions do have consequences, where lives truly are destroyed, and even the promise of Sephy surviving with his child couldn’t take away from the very sober reality.

Cooke’s production was staged well and informally on a bare floor. A few gimmicks detracted (the starting of scenes with percussive movements from the cast and sudden lighting changes grew tiring), but others worked well. Clarence Smith’s excellent news reporter was particularly good, entering every time a TV was ‘turned on’ and walking round his audience, speaking his reports directly to them before walking off. Set pieces such as an explosion in a shopping centre and the flight of the two lovers through a forest were also handled well, using simple means such as carefully placed prop actors to great effect.

The main frustration of the play was the sheer amount of talking. Cooke fell into the trap of the novel adaptor by having vast portions of action spoken by Sephy or Callum, who narrated the entire play. This became extremely dull after a while, and a more equal balance of narration with inter-character dialogue would have been far more interesting.

The production was solid and certainly seemed to keep the attention of its young audience. It was the second half that impressed though, with the very adult themes of terrorism and torture, rape and abuse, passion and desolation. In this, Cooke correctly realised that teenagers don’t need to be patronised or hidden from the issues which, after all, dominate the news every day, and allowed his audience to follow him from the children’s world of small-scale politics and bullying to the public world of terror and desperate hope. As a play for adults it would have been too simple, but as a play for young adults it hit almost all the right notes.


January 16, 2008

Crowskin @ The CAPITAL Centre

My second production of the year, and also the second one based around puppets. Hopefully this won’t be a trend for the whole of the month, though it would certainly be interesting to see Trevor Nunn using puppets in his Scenes from a Marriage!

Crowskin is the first student-devised production of the year at Warwick, a collaboration between Codpiece Theatre and ArtSoc, and hosted by the CAPITAL Centre, opening last night to a full house.

I’m not sure where to begin explaining the story, and in many ways I think explaining it would do a disservice to the production. Suffice to say that the main narrative concerns the journey of the drugged-up and recently dumped Bobby to the New England town of Innsmouth to discover the truth about his parentage, accompanied by his best friend, his ex and his ex’s new partner. On arrival, they find the inhabitants of Innsmouth don’t necessarily have their best interests at heart…..

Crowskin poster

Before the primary plot even kicked off, we were given an extended prologue introducing us to the mythology behind the “B-movie fish creatures” that plagued humankind (gloriously funny, the actors performing with hand puppets to great effect), and to American history with a lecture by a CIA agent (or is he?) and a nicely-staged re-enactment of the atomic bomb. The message of the production was at once both clear and fuzzy. This was an allegory for America, post war- the national conscience over Hiroshima, CIA conspiracies, Richard Nixon, communism and paranoia and the hedonistic drug-fuelled days of the 60s all combined into one. Yet the production made no concessions to those with a limited knowledge of the period, such as myself, leaving me more with a general sense of the fears and difficulties of the time than any actual transferable insight. I’d have been very interested to hear the take of someone who’s more familiar with the time.

All of the above fed into the production’s greatest weakness, its running time. With so much going on and so much ground to cover (coupled with some unavoidable first night technical hitches which didn’t distract in themselves), the performance dragged itself out to 2 and a half hours, with no interval. It’s too much for an audience to take, even with most of the best professional companies. There’s a perfect moment for an interval halfway through, when the mismatched crew settle their trip, and I really hope the company go on to consider giving their audience ten minutes to stretch.

The design of the production was impressive, particularly in the wonderful puppets created by Katherine Harding’s design team. From the finger puppets expertly brought to life by Claire Johnson and Tim Franklin to the cute little light-up houses (no idea what they were for, but they were cute) to the climax, the fantastic full-size fish-man puppet that oversaw most of the final section of the play, voiced and handled brilliantly by Yann Allsopp. Use of a large screen for shadow puppetry led to some fun moments including the large disembodied head of Richard Nixon giving instructions to his agents.

The performances were generally also very good. On arrival to Innsmouth the play began borrowing shamelessly from The Rocky Horror Show with both Simon Ferdinand (a hunchbacked Igor) and Julian Gyll-Murray (evil French waiter) hamming it up gloriously in their B-movie roles. The Rocky Horror connection was perhaps unintentionally added to by Iain Marsh’s central turn as Bobby echoing his performance last term as Brad in MTW’s production of the musical. Tim Franklin also provided good value throughout as a variety of mad characters, though never topping his inspired handling of the finger puppet cannibals in the opening scene. The absolute star of the show, though, was Joe Lane in a scene-stealing performance as Scooby, Bobby’s drug-addled friend. Drooling on the floor, groping folk and speaking only in a variety of bad rhymes, proverbs and scat dialogue, he was genuinely hysterical.

These moments were great and provide the main lasting impression of the production. However, the great moments were spread too thinly over the scenes which simply needed trimming. The farcical hospital scene was an excellent example of this, which was very funny for its first few minutes but overstayed its welcome by about as long again. There is a truly good 90 minute play bursting to get out of Crowskin, and I very much hope that over the week’s run (and any afterlife it goes on to) that, with a bit of cutting and snappier handling of the technical side, this play will become great.


January 09, 2008

Scenes From a Marriage at the Belgrade Theatre : START TIME CHANGE

If you have booked for this production, READ ME NOW!

Eager theatregoers who have booked early for Trevor Nunn’s Scenes from a Marriage at the Belgrade are going to be in for a nasty surprise when they get to the theatre this month.

The Belgrade have moved the start time of the production FORWARD by half an hour for every performance, from 8pm to 7.30pm.

And for some reason, they don’t seem to have bothered to TELL anyone.

My ticket says 8pm, my online booking confirmation says 8pm, my copy of the Belgrade season diary says 8pm. In fact, if I hadn’t had cause to book a trip for some students to the same play, which caused me to visit the website, I would never have known about the time change.

I can only hope, for the Belgrade’s sake, that I was missed out by a fluke. That they have, in fact, contacted the other hundreds (?) of theatregoers who booked before the times changed. The only response I got from the Belgrade box office when I called them in disbelief was “Oh, has no-one told you?”.

Moving a play to an earlier start time is one of the cardinal sins of a theatre. To not contact the people who have already bought tickets to alert them to this stage is therefore mismanagement of an astronomical scale in theatre terms. When I worked at Warwick Arts Centre, if there was ANY change to the advertised schedule, we literally rang round all of our customers to make sure that the message was thoroughly disseminated, no matter how many it was. Can you imagine the scenes at a theatre if half the audience turned up 30 minutes late?

Scenes From a Marriage is the jewel in the Belgrade’s crown for 2008, the first big event of the UK theatre season. And if a big proportion of the audience miss the first half hour, there is going to be hell to pay. The audience will rightly want their money back, the cast and director are going to be furious and the Belgrade will be a laughing stock. Yet, when I spoke to the box office, they didn’t seem to realise any of this.

So, is anyone else in a similar position? I really, REALLY hope that someone can comment on this to tell me that they booked early and that the Belgrade DID ring them to tell them about the change. I really, really hope I was missed out as a fluke, for their sake. In any case, any theatregoers reading this, help get the message out that it IS a 7.30pm start, and hopefully people won’t be caught out.


January 02, 2008

Fantastic Mr. Fox @ Stratford–upon–Avon Civic Hall

There’s no better way, in my opinion, to beat the back-to-work blues than by taking the last day of the Christmas holiday to see a good kids show. Especially when it’s based on a Roald Dahl book and performed by a top company. The RSC haven’t done a proper Christmas children’s play for a couple of years now, but this year they have invited the Little Angel Theatre, last seen in Stratford with Venus and Adonis, to revive their excellent Fantastic Mr. Fox, based on Dahl’s book of the hero fox who, um, nicks food and cider from the local farmers.

The Little Angel’s trade is, of course, puppets, and the designers had come up trumps with some curiously angular but thoroughly expressive animals and three comically ugly farmers. These cartoonish creations mostly stayed on the stage, poking over the colourful scenery. As usual with the Little Angel, however, the puppeteers were very much a part of the show, sometimes hiding behind the scenery but more often in full view and even interacting with the characters, such as during the song that introduced the three farmers in which the handlers pretended to wrestle with their creations, who kicked and bit the humans in their struggle to break free.

Fantastic Mr. Fox poster

The simple story, excellently adapted by Sarah Woods (who also co-wrote Cardboard Citizens’ Timon of Athens), got straight to the point, with the farmers instantly declaring their mission to rid themselves of the pesky fox. The banter between the three (two stupid, one – Mr Bean – the evil genius) was one of the more childish aspects of the production, the jokes mostly about falling over, but Bean’s alcoholism (“I’m not as think as you drunk I am”) kept the adults amused. The bulk of the dialogue fell to the titular hero, his three entertaining cubs and the posh Badger they met on route, and it was here that Woods’ script found its stride, surprisingly witty for a kids show. Badger’s comments on the time he dated a vegetarian (“She said ‘Potato’, I say ‘Sirloin steak’- I had to call the whole thing off”) had me laughing far louder than the kids…...

The set was well used. For those unfamiliar with the story, it largely takes place underground: Boggis, Bean and Bunce, the farmers, are keeping watch on the entrance to Mr. Fox’s den, so he and his children spend their time digging around the county and creating tunnels directly into the farmers’ warehouses. As the foxes dug, bits of the scenery were removed to create more spaces for the puppets to poke out from, and in one very inventive sequence, two puppeteers came out with model JCBs to level the entire front flat, forcing the foxes to dig deep to stage level to escape.

The magic of this production belonged to the puppets. The performers (Sarah Burgess, Sam Dutton, Charlie Llewellyn-Smith and Mark Whitaker) brought their charges effectively to life, with plenty of little details to strengthen the image – Bean cleaning his gun, the foxcubs cleaning their tails, a drunken Rat shaking his paw in a tiny fist. Larger versions of the main characters were brought out in the second act for a couple of forays into the audience, allowing the watching children to see the puppets up close and be nuzzled by them, which they seemed to enjoy! The puppeteers also excelled vocally, and their singing voices in particular were very good, creating some entertainingly bouncy pop tunes around Dahl and Woods’ very entertaining lyrics.

The production’s only real mis-step was in the character of Rat, an alcoholic living in Bean’s cider cellar. After our heroes had escaped with their goodies, Rat was left alone on stage for an odd little scene in which he talked about the animals he wished he could have been instead of a rat, and comforted himself with “just a little drink” as the lights faded. The impression I got was that Woods was attempting to add a bit of depth with a slightly darker moment, but as we had only just been introduced to the character it failed to make any real impression, and apparently served more to cover a scene change behind.

Otherwise, this was an exemplary children’s show, demonstrating the power of a simple good story and an excess of visual imagination. This was a very enjoyable afternoon, and the big kids perhaps enjoyed it even more than the littl’uns. It’s also the perfect medium for Dahl’s slightly twisted fantasy world, and certainly the best Dahl adaptation I’ve ever seen on stage or screen.


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Peter Kirwan is Teaching Associate in Shakespeare and Early Modern Drama at the University of Nottingham and a reviewer of Shakespearean theatre for several academic journals.


The Bardathon is his experimental review blog, covering productions of (or based on) all early modern plays. The aim is to combine immediate reactions with the detail and analysis of the academic review.


Theatre criticism always needs more voices. Please comment with your own views and contributions!

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