The Beast's Pen

Photo: Craig Fuller

Writer: AJ Yi

Director: Emily Ling Williams

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When viewed from half a world away, anti-government protests look very different from what is experienced amid the turmoil. Cleverly, AJ Yi’s play A Playlist for the Revolution looks at the 2019 Hong Kong uprisings from both perspectives. Their play is receiving its world premiere at the Bush Theatre.

Yi lures the audience in with opening scenes which promise a teenage romcom, but then they take us to the heart of a modern political struggle. Jonathan is a 19-year-old Maths undergraduate at Hong Kong University; attired in a neat designer suit and tie, he is conventional and a little stuffy, but he is conflicted between the pull of his conservative roots and the pressure to react to a new reality.

Jonathan plays the piano, preferring Chopin over Beethoven, but he strives to become more Chinese. In relation to the growing protest movement, he is a “blue” (ie neutral). He meets Chloe, of similar age, who is visiting from London; she is of Hong Kong origin, but had moved overseas with her family many years earlier; she adores Beyoncé and is much more chilled out than Jonathan. Her stance on the uprisings is “yellow” (pro), even though she hates Coldplay.

Chloe returns to England after the brief encounter, but the couple remain in touch via various internet platforms and they put together joint playlists of songs with revolutionary themes. Meanwhile, Jonathan is becoming influenced by a much older college janitor, Mr Chu, who had taken part in protests over several decades. Encouraged by his new friend and by more gentle coaxing from afar by Chloe, Jonathan moves towards becoming a “yellow”.

The first act of director Emily Ling Williams’ stirring open stage production feels slightly overlong, as the play dances around its key themes rather than addressing them directly. However, Yi’s skill in blending drama with comedy is hugely impressive and this quality in their writing is strengthened by a tremendous performance from Liam Lau-Fernandez as Jonathan. He is boy and then man, passionate and then comical, utterly convincing at all times.

Mei Mei Macleod exudes youthful energy as the seemingly carefree Chloe. Her sympathies lie with the pro-democracy protesters, but she only has to watch from the sidelines, never imagining becoming directly involved. Zak Shukor is both funny and moving as the battle-hardened and lusty Mr Chu, talking of his lady friends as he assembles Molotov cocktails.

A fiery second act ends in anticlimax with an epilogue that does not really work, but Yi’s sadness at the stifling of individual expression under an increasingly authoritarian regime shines through clearly. The play’s core messages are heavy, but they are never allowed to weigh it down and moments of delicate humour spring out in the most unexpected places. The outcome is a play that is as entertaining as it is enlightening.

Performance date: 29 June 2023

Photo: Pamela Raith

Writer: Shomit Dutta

Director: Guy Unsworth

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Neither Samuel Beckett nor Harold Pinter was particularly averse to baffling audiences, but how would the two playwrights have fared if coming face to face with each other? Shomit Dutta’s new short play sets out to answer that question and it is, perhaps inevitably, an absurdist comedy.

Beckett had earned an entry in Wisden while playing cricket for Trinity College Dubli in 1928, while the much younger Pinter had developed a lifelong obsession for the sport, playing as an amateur in charity match for Gaieties CC. The play imagines a 1963 match taking place in a remote Cotswold village in which both writers play. Dutta’s play was originally staged at Lords’ for streaming and it now finds a home a short walk along the road at Hampstead Theatre.

The play involves a lot of waiting. At first, Beckett and Pinter are in the pavilion, padded up, waiting nervously to be called to bat. After both are out and inquests have begun, they wait again for someone or something. Yes, of course, this is Waiting for Godot meets The Dumb Waiter and references to both works abound, as nonsensical developments become shrouded in mystery.

Stephen Tompkinson’s Beckett has a nonchalant air, brandishing his worldly experience to mock Pinter’s modest skills as a cricketer and perhaps in other respects. Andrew Lancel finds a close resemblance to Pinter’s public persona, making him a dour and humourless man who takes himself, his cricket and everything else far too seriously. Together, they are less Vladimir and Estragon than Morecambe and Wise, opposites who draw the comedy from their differences.

It cannot be denied that some knowledge of theatre or cricket or both would be a helpful aid to appreciating Dutta’s in jokes, but director Guy Unsworth’s breezy production has enough good laughs to get by anyway. David Woodhead’s set design, framed as if it is a painting in the National Gallery, is inventive and bathed in the pastel colours of a Summer afternoon.

Stumped has few more ideas than a typical student revue sketch, but it bats out its 70-minute innings effortlessly, raising many a chuckle along the way. It is all completely pointless and that is exactly the point.

Performance date: 26 June 202

Photo: Johan Persson

Music: Harry Warren

Lyrics: Al Dublin

Book: Michael Stewart and Mark Bramble

Director: Jonathan Church

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In the middle of America’s Great Depression in 1933, people needed cheering up and the Hollywood film 42nd Street, drawing from the mythology of Broadway, set out to fill that need. So what has changed in 90 years?

The film was adapted into a stage musical which first opened in New York in 1980 and at London’s Theatre Royal Drury Lane in 1984, where it was revived in 2017. This latest revival, touring the United Kingdom, started life at the Curve Theatre, Leicester. It is scaled down somewhat from the spectacular 2017 production, but it still boasts more than enough hoofers and tappers to set the stage ablaze and choreographer Bill Deamer does excellent work in setting them on their way.

The book by Michael Stewart and Mark Bramble follows rehearsals for a new show, starting out in Philadelphia and moving to Broadway. Director Julian Marsh (Adan Garcia) is a hard task master and he is lumbered with a fading star, Dorothy Brock, who has not had a hit for 10 years. Ruthie Henshall seems to relish spitting out Brock’s bitchy lines. The company is joined by the gifted ingénue, Peggy Sawyer, who clearly has the potential to step into the leading role and, guess what? She does.

Nicole-Lily Baisden faces a stiff challenge to live up to the hype in the script about Peggy’s talents, but she pulls it off with aplomb. Sub-plots pop up and fizzle out, with stalwarts such as Josefina Gabrielle and Les Dennis on hand to bolster the comedy when it flags (as it often does), and the entire company looks gorgeous in 1930s costumes, designed by Roberts Jones.

The songs, including standards such as I Only Have Eyes For You, We’re In the Money and Lullaby of Broadway, roll by and the brass section of Jennifer Whyte’s orchestra works overtime. However, many of these songs were written originally by Harry Warren and Al Dublin for other ventures and were already hits before being parachuted into the 1933 film. When the songs do not fit seamlessly into the action, this is probably the reason. The roots of modern jukebox musicals go deeper than perhaps we thought.

The staging of the musical numbers is exhilarating, but, when the orchestra goes quiet and the chorus lines drift into the wings 42nd Street goes into gridlock and there is little that director Jonathan Church, getting scant help from the book, can do to inject life into the show. Yes the tale of a young girl being catapulted from obscurity to stardom is uplifting, but it is also corny and predictable, lacking sufficient substance to carry an entire musical by modern day standards.

42nd Street can be summed up as a dozen or so showstoppers in search of a show, but, when those showstoppers are laid on with as much piled-up pizzazz as here, audiences can be forgive for not noticing other shortcomings.

Performance date: 14 June 2023

Photo: Stefan Hanegraaf

Writer: Andrew Rosendorfh

Director: Scott Huran

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When the Americans finally pulled out of Afghanistan in 2021, they took back with them many battle scars, both physical and mental. Andrew Rosendorf’s incendiary 90-minute dram examines unflinchingly the impact of the conflict, directly or indirectly, on four gay men.

Callum Mardy is remarkably powerful as Kyle, a soldier who has had the bottom half of his body blown away by an IED (improvised explosive device). Returning to the United State, he is faced with the challenges of rebuilding his life, but he is unable to find the confidence or the support that he needs in order to do so. Offers to help arrive, but they are rejected out of misplaced pride and stubbornness. 

Flashbacks to the conflict show Kyle’s burgeoning romance with a lower-ranked soldier, Chuck, played with passion and warmth by Prince Kundai. However, Kyle puts up barriers when they return to the US, fearful that his severe injuries would become a blight on Chuck’s life. He turns to Harry (Tobie Donovan), a former High School friend, but their reacquaintance brings little comfort.

Kyle’s reunion with his estranged brother, Jack (Joe Bolland) brings discussions of the men’s relationship with their late father, also a military man, which allows Rosendorf to interrogate modern values of masculinity. The brothers’ attempts to heal wounds from the past and find unity to tackle the future are quietly touching.

Jumping backwarrds and forwards in time, the play’s early scenes are a little confusing and they need clearer points of reference. However, the writer’s thoughtful approach compensates for other shortcomings and Marty, an actor with disabilities comparable to Kyle’s, is a tower of strength throughout.

Occasionally, the strength of the acting in director Scott Huran’s gripping production tends to over-value the writing, which lapses into slightly stilted dialogue and becomes repetitive. Sorcha Corcoran’s design, setting a dozen hanging strip lights against a plain backdrop, creates an austere vision which suits the play’s stark and visceral elements well, but is less successful in supporting scenes of human emotion.

Paper Cut takes the audience on a painful journey and it belies its title by making deep incisions to explore the psychological traumas  resulting from warfare. It is a sobering reminder that the casualties of conflicts go far beyond any list of fatalities.

Performance date: 12 June 2023