The Beast's Pen

Photo: Christophe Raymond de Lage

Writer and director: Alexander Zeldin

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It is a long way from Sydney to London and a long time from World War II to the present day. Writer and director Alexander Zeldin’s new play embarks on these epic journeys, viewed from the perspective of one woman’s quest for cultural enlightenment and self-empowerment. An international collaboration, this production was co-commissioned by the National Theatre, RISING Melbourne and Théâtres de la Ville Luxembourg.

Inspired by conversations with Zeldin’s mother and her peers, the woman in the story is Alice, played in later life by Amelda Brown and, for most of the play, by Eryn Jean Norvill, whose performance is a tour-de-force. All other roles are shared among seven actors. Alice is born into a traditional Australian family; her father, a soldier who is away fighting in the War, is unknown to her in her formative years and the faraway shores of Europe seem no more than a dream to her.

Driven by a rebellious streak and a thirst for knowledge, Alice matures to become a fiercely independent woman, immersed in the Arts. The play tracks her progress through troubled times and stormy relationships to eventually discovering her place in the world. The times in which she lives impact on her life, but, in some small way, she helps to change those times.

The play purports to be an “intimate portrait” of Alice, but Zeldin hits the problem that intimacy and the Lyttelton Theatre have frequently made uncomfortable bedfellows. The writer/director’s previous work at the National Theatre, the gritty social dramas LOVE and Faith, Hope and Charity have thrived on the compact space of the Dorfman Theatre, but. here, the vast stage almost swallows his play. Zeldin attempts to break down the fourth wall by having characters enter and exit through the audience, but to little avail and Marg Horwell’s colourless set designs drain the production of any warmth coming from the performances. 

Perhaps it was always foolishly ambitious to try to condense this sprawling and complex narrative into a one-act play, running for under two hours and, inevitably, the storytelling is episodic and often confusing. There are several dramatic flashpoints, heightened by stirring modern orchestral music, composed by Yannis Philippakis, but they tend to feel isolated from the story and their impact is thereby diminished.

There is much of interest in The Confessions, but this production leaves behind a feeling of being cold and distant, allowing many of the play’s complexities still tangled. 

Performance date: 23 October 2023

Photo: Dawn Kilner

Writer and director: Adam Zane

Adam Zane’s new play is a modern-day morality tale set in the city of Manchester, putting the emphasis on the first syllable. The action revolves around five men who enjoy the pleasure’s of the city’s Gay Village to the full. Their mobile devices are loaded with every known gay dating app and their nights are packed with excesses of sex, drugs and alcohol.

Ben (David Paisley) is in his mid-40s. Having spent 12 years in a monogamous relationship with a much older man, he is now intent on making up for lost time, being a “daddy” to the others, who are all in their 20s. Kam (Sam Goodchild) and Russel (Matthew Gent) are Ben’s old friends who are both denying a little too vigorously that they are a couple. 

They are joined to make up a foursome for the night by AJ (Levi Payne), a newly in town from Doncaster who will later prove to be too slow to learn the perils of unprotected sex. When the action is in full swing, Simon (George Hughes) responds to a dating app message and then there are five. He is porn “star” looking for a steadier job and he has a serious addiction problem.

In Zane’s script, words and deeds are brazen and bawdy. The dialogue alternates between sexually explicit and tired innuendo, broken only by talk of the men’s passions for Victoria Wood, Coronation Street and, of course, Kylie. For all of the first act, the writer seems unable to decide whether he is casting scorn on the lifestyles of the character or celebrating them and being daring alone is not enough to carry the play.

A change of tone in the second act proves to be the play’s redemption. The characters begin to see themselves as unable to escape, trapped forever, each destined to become  “the Ken Barlow of Canal Street”. They come to realise the hollowness of their hedonism and a tragic event jolts them into seeing reality. In these later stages, Zane’s writing itself finds a sense of purpose.

There is little work for a costume designer in a lively, well-paced production, directed by the writer himself. Dick Longdin’s set design for Ben’s bedroom with a much used king-size bed as its centrepiece, suggests that it is part of a comfortable middle class dwelling. in some ways, the characters are integrated into conventional city life, but, in many other ways, they are far apart from it.

Zane’s writing sparks a feeling that the biggest obstacles to enjoying the fruits of their liberation arise from members of the gay community themselves, thereby echoing sentiments to be found in the works of Kevin Elyot. Such a comparison may flatter Zane at the moment, but there is sufficient here to indicate that brighter things could be on the way.

Performance date: 12 October 2023

Photo: Ellie Kurttz

Writer: Tanika Gupta

Director: Pooja Ghai

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With our Government warning us of an imminent “hurricane” of immigrants, it is worth taking time to reflect on historic attitudes towards those who are seeking to build new lives in the United Kingdom. Tanika Gupta’s new drama, transferring from the Swan Theatre in Stratford-upn-Avon, charts the progress of a group travelling on a ship arriving in England from India in 1887, whose lives become intertwined.

Rani is a 16-year-old, employed as a nursemaid to a wealthy English family who is returning home. Immediately on arrival, the family dismisses and abandons her to make her own way in a hostile London. She gains employment with an aristocratic family, but soon discovers that the father of the children in her care is making demands on her that go far beyond household duties and she finds herself back on the streets. Eventually, she becomes the assistant to an Indian politician who is striving to become a Member of the British Parliament. Tanya Katyal is captivating as Rani, transforming from an innocent victim into a confident young woman who is capable of fulfilling her own dreams.

Arriving on the same ship is Abdul, sent as a Golden Jubilee gift to Queen Victoria, Empress of India. Many will already be familiar with the friendship that develops from the 2017 film Victoria and Abdul, but the story is re-told here touchingly with Raj Bajaj making a proud Abdul and Alexandra Gilbreath a stubborn and enlightened monarch. The establishment opposition to this friendship is voiced by a stern lady in waiting, Lady Sarah (Francesca Faraday).

Backed by the considerable resources of the Royal Shakespeare Company, director Pooja Ghai’s lively production has an epic quality that contrasts beautifully with the intimate nature of the stories being told. Designer Rosa Maggiora’s striking two-level set allows the Empress to oversee her subjects and her vibrant costumes accentuate differences between two cultures. Musical compositions by Ben and Max Ringham add much colour and energy when performed by a company of 18 actors and five musicians.

Gupta does not need to remind us of the modern day relevance of her play, but she packs the drama with savage indictments for the crimes of imperialism and the injustices caused by racism and class divisions. However, the messaging is wrapped carefully inside stories of friendship, struggle and an on-off romance between Rani and a sailor from the ship on which she arrived. 

Running at almost three hours (including one interval), The Empress does not feel overlong. It makes serious social and political points and it tells human stories, striking a precise balance. Ultimately, it is entertaining and uplifting..

Performance date: 10 October 2023

Writer: John McKay

Director: Liz Carruthers

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The year is 1985. Live Aid is happening, Margaret Thatcher is celebrating six years in Downing Street and Back to the Future is the big hit on cinema screens. It is also the year in which Scottish writer John McKay’s short play is set.

Not seen in London for 35 years, the play was intended to be staged alongside the premiere of Sunny Boy, a sequel set in 2023. However, due to unfortunate circumstances, this has proved to be impossible and the revival now stands alone. It is a supernatural comedy, rooted firmly in its own place (Edinburgh) and time.

Eck (Angus Miller) is a young man who is embarking on a career in broadcasting. While preparing himself for an interview with the BBC, he is shocked by the arrival of his father, Willie (Liam Brennan), who has been dead for 12 years. McKay makes up new rules for the powers of ghosts, giving us one who is visible to everyone and can eat. Dead Dad follows startled Eck around, turning the job interview into chaos, making unhelpful interjections on a trip to the supermarket and ruining his son’s hopes on a first date.

As a generation gap comedy, this is all fine, if a little predictable, but McKay uses Dad’s 12-year absence to widen the gap with jokes that are very specific to their own era. Dad is bemused by 1980s fashion trends and health food fads and he has no idea who Thatcher is. These gags are mining the same seam as those revolving around time travel in 1985’s hit film and, from the perspective of 38 years later, they are very much back to the past

Director Liz Carruthers allows the two actors only a wooden chair as their single prop and they are both terrific, making it such a pity that much of their material has gone so far beyond its sell-by date. Hopefully, we shall not have to wait too long to see Sunny Boy, but, for now, the valiant efforts of Miller and Brennan to give the kiss of life to the earlier play all seem rather pointless.

Performance date: 5 October 2023

Photo: Danny Kaan

Music and lyrics: Stephen Sondheim

Directors: Matthew Bourne and Julia McKenzie

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When the great American composer and lyricist Stephen Sondheim died on 26 November 2021, he left behind a hole in the world of musical theatre that may never be filled. He also leaves behind many, many old friends and this extravagant show establishes emphatically that London’s West End is, collectively, among them.

We have seen tributes to Sondheim before. The 2010 televised 80th Birthday Prom at the Royal Albert Hall lives long in the memory, but the involvement of Matthew Bourne as co-director and Stephen Mear as choreographer ensures that this show is more animated than any concert could be. Most famously, the 1976 revue Side By Side By Sondheim showcased the writer’s early works and Julia McKenzie, a star of that show in the West End and on Broadway, joins Bourne, thereby adding a poignant sense of continuity.

Devised by Cameron Macintosh and stage in his Gielgud Theatre, which adjoins the newly renamed Sondheim Theatre, the show opens with Bernadette Peters, who has avoided the West End for most of her illustrious Broadway career, and Lea Salonga reminding us that Sondheim achieved major successes, as lyricist only, with West Side Story and Gypsy before his first hit as writer of both music and lyrics in 1962. That first show was the Ancient Roman romp A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and, fittingly, this show’s opening routine, Comedy Tonight, originates from it. Much comedy as well as nostalgia and pathos follows.

A 14-piece orchestra, under the direction of Alfonso Casado Trigo, is  placed at the back of a stage that is adorned by countless lights. In a company of around 20 well-established performers, those joining Peters and Salonga include Clare Burt, Janie Dee, Damian Humbley, Bonnie Langford, Jason Pennycooke, Joanna Riding and Jeremy Secomb. A little overwhelming, perhaps.

In the first half, we are whisked from a New York wedding chapel (Company), into and through land of fairy tales (Into the Woods), before spending a Summer weekend in the Swedish countryside (A Little Night Music) and landing in the den of a throat-cutting barber (Sweeney Todd…). No one ever questions Sondheim’s versatility, but, here, the greatest hits selection feels slightly random and could maybe benefit from some witty original material to link the segments and provide context. As the half draws to a close, the company comes together for a glorious rendition of Sunday from Sunday in the Park with George as an image of George Seurat’s painting hangs over their heads.,

The backbone for the second half is provided by Sondheim’s two homages to the age of Vaudeville, Follies and Gypsy, with the mix of pathos and comedy holding together firmly. Peters tugs at the heartstrings with Losing My Mind, as she had done with Send in the Clowns in the first half, and Salongs asserts forcefully that Everything’s Coming Up Roses; however, both are eclipsed by Dee’s hilarious party piece, The Boy From…, which was written for a long-forgotten off-Broadway revue.

The razzle-dazzle of Broadway in all it’s moods dominates proceedings, with the wit and wisdom of Sondheim’s lyrics and his haunting melodies shining through. Sadly, this leaves little room for a full appreciation of Sondheim the pioneer, the man who expanded the boundaries of musical theatre into new territories, and ambitious shows such as Pacific Overtures (soon to be revived in London) and Assassins are squeezed out.

Not a wake but a celebration by Sondheim’s old friends for his old friends, this show should also draw in many new friends. The songs featured here are like treats from a tasting menu, perfect for whetting the appetite for a main course in the form of a full Sondheim musical. There should be plenty of opportunities to feast for many years to come.

Performance date: 30 September 2023