The Beast's Pen

Described as a “comedy of terror”, this adaptation of Franz Kafka’s surrealist novel first opened here in 2006, so its return indicates that it has gained a reputation and/or a loyal audience; it was something of a surprise to find a near-full house for Kafka in West London on a cold Tuesday evening in February. It begins with a man emerging one morning having, for no stated reason,  turned into some kind of insect; his family recoil in disgust and reject him. The single set is on two levels, a downstairs living room and the upstairs room, cleverly designed to alter perspectives, where the man/insect becomes imprisoned. Playing him Gisli Om Garoarsson displays impressive gravity-defying agility and provides many of the striking visual images that are threaded through the entire evening. The music by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis also adds much to the prevailing mood of weirdness. However, if the production is at its best when it is a visual piece underscored by music, it is at its very worst when the characters are speaking; their dialogue is uninteresting and repetitive being delivered in an irritating, stylised manner. None of Kafka’s antiauthoritarian messages would have been lost if this had been performed as a mime. Indeed, this is a production that would have spoken much louder if it had not used words.

This review was originally written for The Public Reviews: http://www.thepublicreviews.com

Ivor Novello remains an iconic name in British theatre but, unlike contemporaries such as Coward and Rattigan, his works are largely unknown to modern audiences. This production gives clear clues both as to how he gained his stature and as to why his works are now hardly ever staged. To avoid confusion with modern connotations, the *Gay* of the title is Gay Daventry, a fading musical theatre star who founds a school of dramatic arts. There is no more plot worth recounting. Beginning with the positive, the tunes are varied and melodic, the lyrics are sharp and witty. This production has evolved from concert performances at the Finborough Theatre last year and it is easy to see why those performances were successful. They would have accentuated the songs and the book would have been relegated to secondary importance. However, in a full staging, the songs and the book matter equally and the show’s major weakness becomes more exposed. Musical theatre began to change forever after the opening of OKLAHOMA on Broadway in 1943, so this show was already on its way to becoming a relic when it was first staged in 1950, the year before Novello’s untimely death. In the second half of the 20th Century and beyond, musicals have become fully-developed works of theatre in their own right with integrated music and lyrics that serve to augment and drive forward the drama or comedy. Now a musical with a weak book is unlikely to go far, but in Novello’s days, the book of a show, this one included, was usually no more than a loose structure to which a collection of songs could be attached. The cast is 20-strong plus a pianist, not many fewer than a capacity audience in this tiny venue. Many musicals have benefitted enormously from being scaled down to be performed in a small venue, but this is not one of them. It is about musical theatre and, to have even a remote chance of working, it needed to be staged in a traditional theatre, where the big numbers could be made bigger, full dance routines could be added and the show’s critical weakness could be more easily overlooked. Here the spotlight is fixed firmly for long periods on the abysmal script and the performers can find no escape route. The company, led by Sophie-Louise Dann, Josh Little and Helena Blackman are all good singers and all likeable, but between musical numbers, they seem uncertain whether to play it straight or as a parody. In truth, neither option would succeed and their only salvation comes with the next song. The sad conclusion is that the main value of this revival is for it to serve as the equivalent of a museum exhibit, showing us what musical theatre used to be like. It may be a while before a Novello show is seen again.

Robert Lepage has gained sufficient renown as a theatre-maker to have his name dominating the posters, so, when a director is given such prominence, it was to be expected that this new production would be mostly about visual impact. It is the first of four plays, each shaped around one card suit, this one supposedly having the theme of war and set in the underbelly of Las Vegas, where gambling addiction, prostitution, illegal immigration, etc are rife. With a technical crew that far outnumbers the performers, there is certainly much to impress. Characters and objects emerge from and sink into the huge round stage, which is frequently revolving. Unfortunately, however imaginative the staging may be, there is little point to it when it evokes neither the magic of Las Vegas that forms its allure nor the seediness that lies beneath its surface. Furthermore, when the action calms and there are just two or three actors performing a scene, they are unable to create any dramatic impact because they seem remote and lost. I saw the first preview performance, so I have to forgive most technical glitches, but, as some scenes are performed in French or Spanish, it was very sad that the surtitles should have been out of sync. Last and certainly least what about the script? Leaving aside quibbles about the staging, this is the biggest problem with the show; eight writers are given credit, which could explain why there is a lack of both cohesion and focus, but the script is also plodding and inexcusably dull. Overall, a big disappointment.

This review was originally written for The Public Reviews: http://www.thepublicreviews.com

In 2011 at the same theatre (then named The Comedy), Ian Rickson directed what many regard as the definitive version of Pinter’s 1978 play Betrayal, which depicted a love triangle of two men and a woman. Now he returns with the same leading actor to direct this three-hander for two women and a man, so expectations were high. This play dates from 1971 and is set in the country home of Deeley, a film-maker, and his wife Kate. The third character is Anna, who had been Kate’s room-mate 20 years earlier. The three recollect events from the past which may have really happened, may have been distorted by time or may have been invented. We are never told. Kate is brunette, brooding and introverted, Anna is blond, flamboyant and outgoing. Do they represent two sides of the same woman? Well, probably, but this is too simplistic to be the complete answer and Pinter never lets us off so lightly. He asks us to ponder on how our present lives can be shaped by what we think may have happened in the past just as much as by what actually happened and on how the people that we once were inhabit us as much as the people that we later became. The art of acting Pinter lies in an understanding of what is meant but not always written. In Betrayal, the character of Emma is defined by her duplicity and, when playing her in Rickson’s production, Kristin Scott Thomas frequently needed to speak a line whilst conveying to the audience that her character is thinking the exact opposite. In achieving this so successfully, she marked herself as a consummate actor of Pinter. Her mature beauty and natural elegance can mask an inner turmoil that is revealed only by the slightest changes in body language, maybe no more than a flicker or a grimace, but, without needing words, she is able to project the truth within of the character that the writer has created. In this play, the characters are not deceiving others so much as themselves as they recall past events and emotions, struggling to distinguish what is real and what is not and it takes an actor with Scott Thomas’s skills to convey this to an audience. She is matched here more than adequately by Lia Williams. The two are alternating the roles of Kate and Anna and this reviewer saw Scott Thomas as Anna and Williams as Kate. Rufus Sewell is also superb as Deeley, veering between playfulness and exasperated rage. The production values are high. Hildegard Bechtler’s sparsely furnished but richly coloured sets and Peter Mumford’s lighting contribute to the sombre and reflective atmosphere that prevails throughout as does Stephen Warbeck’s haunting piano music, particularly in the wordless closing moments. As always with Pinter, many questions are posed but straightforward answers are never given. Running for just 80 minutes without an interval, this play is enigmatic, perhaps even baffling, but it will linger in the mind long after the curtain falls. Maybe this production of the play will be talked of 20 years hence as the one that could never be bettered and maybe such recollections will be true.

This review was originally written for The Public Reviews: http://www.thepublicreviews.com

At its heart, this play argues that theatre is a medicine for many ills, capable of soothing troubled souls and giving meaning to abandoned lives. Based on Thomas Keneally’s 1987 novel THE PLAYMAKER which drew from real events, it was first produced at the Royal Court in 1988 and won great acclaim. This new production with the same director is by the Out of Joint company in conjunction with the Octagon Theatre, Bolton. and it is well worth its transfer to the West End’s newest theatre. In the late 18th Century, a ship from Britain, carrying convicts destined for a penal colony, arrives on Australia’s shores after an eight month voyage. The Governor of the colony questions the value of the brutal regime that has become accepted and charges a young Lieutenant with staging a play in which the convicts will perform. The play within the play is George Farquhar’s THE RECRUITING OFFICER (seen at the Donmar only last year). At first the Lieutenant sees it as a career opportunity, but his enthusiasm for the project grows as he becomes more closely involved with his company. Whilst much of what follows is comic, as is inevitable when a group of novices fumble to learn new skills, we are never allowed to forget the injustices and brutality which form the backdrop to the story and we know that the threat of the gallows always looms. On this serious level, whilst more liberal attitudes prevail today, the debates in the play on finding the right balance between punishment and rehabilitation are still as relevant as at the time when the play is set. This is a vibrant and exciting production. The steeply-raked auditorium gives the effect of a bear pit which heightens the confrontational aspects of many of the scenes. The company of ten needs to double up on many roles and the inevitable downside of this is some confusion as to which character is appearing, a problem that is referred to humorously in the play’s text. However, on this occasion, the disadvantage is offset by creating the appearance of having a small and energetic company with limited resources, which is completely consistent with the themes of the play. Only Dominic Thorburn as the Lieutenant plays a single role throughout, but, of the others, Ian Redford deserves a mention for exceptional versatility. Also, the four women, Helen Bradbury, Laura Dos Santos, Lisa Kerr and Kathryn O’Reilly display resilience, dignity and tenderness to great effect. As a diversion, the writer occasionally indulges herself with cutting theatrical in-jokes, particularly at the expense of actors, but the balance between the comic and the dramatic is effective and switches of mood are handled very adeptly. Overall, the play is funny, disturbing, moving and, most endearingly, it is a strong affirmation of the power of theatre. Highly recommended

The staff room of  a Cambridge school of English for foreigners in the early 1960s is the setting for Richard Eyre’s welcome revival of Simon Gray’s 1981 comedy. Seven characters appear in the room but it is a host of others who are spoken of but unseen who drive the action. This really is the point as Gray sets out to show how people exist in their own separate orbits, hardly making any meaningful contact with others they meet every day in the workplace; here the truth is never spoken when a platitude can be found to replace it and everyone relates their own triumphs and disasters to others who show only mock interest or concern. For six of the characters, the real world is that which exists outside the staff room. The exception to this is St John Quartermaine, a shambolic teacher whose only world is the staff room; he is unable to engage with his pupils, unable to teach, incapable of even attending all his own lessons, but he vainly seeks to be admitted into the worlds of his colleagues who would only welcome him when they see him as being useful to them. He slouches in the same chair every day, even it is once jokingly suggested during school holidays. He is a true English eccentric and Rowan Atkinson needs to do little more than just be himself in order to capture his essence. However, this is an ensemble piece and Matthew Cottle, Louise Ford, Conleth Hill, Will Keen, Felicity Montagu and Malcolm Sinclair are all perfectly cast, balancing comedy and tragedy as their characters’ individual stories evolve. The main justification for bringing this play in to a West End theatre may have been to provide a star vehicle for Rowan Atkinson, but it also gives a new generation the opportunity to discover Gray’s sharp and wryly funny writing, which cannot be a bad thing.

In the last of the Donmar’s season showcasing the work of new directors, Simon Evans directs this 1941 French play by Vercors (in a version by Anthony Weigh). In a remote part of the French coast, a German officer  (Leo Bill) is billeted on the home of an uncle and niece (Finbar Lynch and Simona Bitmate), presenting thinly veiled parallels with the German occupation of France. Whilst the woman is, for the most part, silent, the two men talk to each other and about each other but never engage in conversation. In effect, they are delivering alternating monologues which provide an eloquent commentary on the experience of occupation but deliver no dramatic tension and no human interest. Vercors was a prominent figure in the Intellectual Resistance movement in France during World War II and, revived now, this is still of historical significance. However, it is in essence a collection of well-written and well-spoken thoughts that could be gripping if performed as a radio play, but, judged as a drama for live theatre, it never really works.

Set in 1948 and, when first performed almost 30 years later, Peter Nichols’ loosely-structured comedy (with songs by Denis King) was far enough removed from the events it depicted to satirise them, but close enough to resonate with audiences. Revived now under Michael Grandage’s direction, the contemporary relevance of the piece looks questionable, yet in another 30 years and relocated to Afghanistan, it’s observations about how Britain perceives its place in the World could still be just as cutting. The play draws from the writer’s own experiences in post-War Malaysia and centres on a group (SADUSEA – Song and Dance Unit South East Asia) putting on shows to entertain troops. At the forefront of the group is a flamboyant drag queen, played with great relish by Simon Russell Beale who extracts every possible laugh from the camp humour. As always with this actor, there is as much enjoyment to be had from the expressions on his face when he is not speaking as from the delivery of his lines. There are also stand out performances from Joseph Timms as the innocent new arrival and Angus Wright as the over-zealous Major. Amidst the hilarity, the more serious themes are brought out well and, despite the dating, I still found it a satisfying and pleasurable evening.

Chekhov is the staple diet of middle brow theatre-going, with four plays (occasionally a fifth), all firmly fixed in time and style, rotating to make regular appearances. This production certainly lives up to the best West End traditions, the sets and lighting are excellent and Lindsay Posner’s direction is solid and meticulous. The play is Chekhov’s lament on ageing, unrequited love, missed opportunities, wasted lives, boredom and (presciently for 1899) damage to the environment. Ken Stott is superb as the title character, moving effortlessly between sardonic humour, frustration, rage and resignation. He is ably supported by Samuel West, Anna Friel, Laura Carmichael, Paul Freeman, Anna Carteret, etc, all perfectly cast in their roles. However, what I was really looking for was the spark of originality to ignite this production and set it apart from all the other Chekhovs. Sadly it never appeared.