CASA VALENTINA

CASA VALENTINA

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop

at the Old Court

25.07.17

Harvey Fierstein. Kinky Boots, Cage aux Folles, and, surely his finest hour, Torch Song Trilogy, memorably done on this stage back in 2001.

Casa Valentina is a newer piece, though it does revisit those favourite Fierstein themes. Based on the legendary Casa Susanna, it takes us back to the days – the early Sixties – when cross-dressing was still a crime in many US states, and a weekend retreat resort in the Catskills was a dream come true for these “self-made women”. The dream turns to nightmare after the interval, when politics takes over from prosthetics, and callow newbie “Miranda” [an excellent Jesse James Lamb] flees back to the closet.

Rebecca Segeth's production has an evocative period set, on two levels, carefully lit [Jack Hathaway]. And a very strong cast, beautifully turned out in their femme frocks.

Colin Smith is “Valentina”, facing the uncertain future of his guest-house, supported by his wife, the only GG [genuine girl] in residence. This play is the story of their marriage, too, and the final moments are almost unbearably poignant: George sheds his masculine skin to the Everlys' Let It Be Me, as Rita [touchingly played by Rachel Curren] stands confused and alone on the stage above him.

There is much fun and silliness too – the Wildean contributions of the outrageous “Bessie” [Dave Hawkes], and the Sugar Time routine, where the faces of the wallflowers tell their own story: there's Terry Cramphorn's veteran Theodore, who once found refuge in gay bars, listening to Ian Willingham's Michael, who invited the new boy, and whose put-down of “Charlotte” is one of several powerful monologues in the piece - “Bessie”'s uncharacteristically melancholy musings on his marriage are another.

The darker ending is down largely to Barry Taylor's “Charlotte”, a determined activist who will stop at nothing to sign Valentina's guests up to her Sorority. The scene between Taylor and Peter Jeary's Judge (Jeary stepping into “Amy”'s size 10s at a week's notice) is a dramatic masterpiece, and sets the tone for the end of the play, where an icy appearance by the Judge's unsympathetic daughter [Catherine Kenton] reminds us of just how different attitudes were half a century ago.

A superb production of a fascinating piece – a fine note on which to end a successful season for CTW.

image: guests at the original Casa Susanna

HANDBAGGED

HANDBAGGED

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at The Old Court

20.06.17

Moira Buffini's entertaining conceit lets us eavesdrop – a fly on the fourth wall – as Liz talks with Maggie. They met weekly over tea for eleven years.

Of course, “no notes were taken”, so this is all “crass surmise” and speculation, but it does give a unique insight into the politics of the Thatcher years, as well as fabulous opportunities for the actors.
Director Lynne Foster fields a top team of six actors. Mrs T and HMQ have two each – like the Bennett twins in Lady in the Van – allowing for amusing meta-theatrical exchanges. The Thatchers especially are given to bickering. The men are relegated to minions, with two jobbing actors taking on a huge variety of walk-ons, from Hezza to the Gipper. They are impressively done by Mark Preston – Kenneth Kaunda and a convincing Nancy – and Kevin Stemp – Gerry Adams and both consorts. Preston's role provides political balance, reminding the younger audience member about the importance of, say, the miners' strike or Greenham Common.
“Where did she get that accent ?”, muses her Maj. Vocally, all four women are unnervingly accurate – Maggie's breathy sincerity, Liz's thin patrician. They are intended to be a younger and an older incarnation, I think, though it was not always apparent in this casting. Debbie Miles begins with an entirely convincing speech; Andrea Dalton is frighteningly forceful. Jane Smith is excellent as the grumpy, frumpy Queen, riffling through the Royal Ascot guide kindly provided by today's Times. And Laura Hill engagingly plays the somewhat younger – in her fifties – monarch when her hair was still resolutely dyed Chocolate Kiss.
There are occasional dips in energy – musing on jam, faffing with trolleys in black-out – but generally the pace is good, our attention captured by these six excellent performances.
I can remember when the Lord Chamberlain's Office strictly vetoed any stage depiction of the reigning monarch. Now of course the Queen is ubiquitous on the boards, from A Question of Attribution to The Audience. Buffini's piece is a welcome addition – not just a history lesson, and not simply knockabout satire. Both the Monarch and her eighth Prime Minister are often sympathetically portrayed; the Brighton Bombing and the death of Mountbatten genuinely moving moments.

HARVEY

HARVEY

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at the Old Court

07.04.17

Harvey first “appeared” on Broadway a lifetime ago, but this pooka pal has remained popular ever since, due in part to the Jimmy Stewart movie.

Now he's haunting the Old Court stage, in a gently amusing production by Jade Flack.

Elwood P Dowd, “the biggest screwball in town” and the rabbit's constant companion, is given a warmly absorbing performance by Dave Hawkes, perfectly capturing the sunny innocence of this harmless eccentric. Strong in support are Lynne Foster as his desperate sister, with some great moments of physical comedy, and Alec Clements as Sanderson, the callow, charismatic junior doctor at the sanatorium run by Dr Chumley [Jesse Powis in a memorable bow tie].

Not all the performances are quite as assured as Hawkes', but there are nice cameos from Stephanie Yorke-Edwards as Mrs Chumley, Fabienne Hanley as Aunt Ethel, and Ian Russell as the all-important cab driver.

Not many laughs on a thin Friday night, despite the sterling efforts of some experienced performers, but some excellent work in key scenes; Sanderson getting advice from Dowd, or left alone on stage with Ruth [Jade Flack].

And the scene changes from The Dowd Library to Chumley's Rest are very efficiently managed.

LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE

LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at the Old Court Theatre

24.01.17

The joys and sorrows of women's lives, reflected in the wardrobe mirror. This show, by sisters Nora and Delia Ephron, takes its many monologues from Ilene Beckerman's book of the same name.

Like The Vagina Monologues – done to great acclaim at this address last year – it's often staged as a celebrity reading. Not here: Sally Ransom has set the action on a catwalk; there's some fashion-show strutting, too, with music tracks to match.

But no clothes-hanger mannequins, just seven ordinary women; all of the actors successfully suggest the triumphs and the tribulations behind the boots and the purses, the skirts and the socks. And they also open up in the programme about the one garment that means most to them personally.

The confessional style works well in the monologues: the inspired “Hate my purse” soliloquy, the perfect shirt, the touching Southern fantasy, immediately followed by the searing “that's my dress!” trauma. There are ensemble numbers, too: The “Black!” sextet [all the costumes are black, too, save for the wordless three brides number], the three sisters, the changing room, the brassiere parade, the “nothing to wear” sequence. Perhaps some of them could be snappier; a greater variety of pace would help keep the audience engaged.

Stephanie Yorke-Edwards plays Gingy, the artist and author whose collection of clothes sketches became the book and then the play. She is particularly moving as the “forgotten woman” grandmother at the end, who realises that her personal thoughts were personal to other people too. Her six fellow actors play many characters, from the ungrateful teenagers to the mastectomy survivor. They are Jacquie Newman, Sally Rawlins, Leanne Young, Charlotte Norburn, Caroline Dunsmuir and Helen Quigley.

Between them they bring to life a huge variety of American women, fearlessly sharing their secrets and their love-hate relationships with the clothes in their closet.

GASLIGHT

CTW at the Old Court Theatre, Chelmsford

09.12.16

Patrick Hamilton's classic thriller relies heavily on atmosphere, both physical and psychological.

For some reason, perhaps to do with the raised stage, atmosphere seems hard to achieve at the Old Court.

But this polished production combines design, acting and directorial skills to produce a very impressive piece of theatre.

The oppressive Victorian parlour – designer Mark Tree – sets the mood, helped by sympathetic lighting, though I was not convinced by the gas lamps themselves.

The five principal roles were well cast; even the policeman looked Victorian.

Compelling performances from Sarah Bell as the young wife who's the victim of her sinister husband's mind games – a woman on the edge, tearful, desperate but strong at last as she gives the knife a final twist in the powerful dénouement. Her Manningham, all sneers and sideways glances, is chillingly done by Colin Smith; controlling and vindictive, he nonetheless eschews histrionics, rarely needing to raise his voice. The servants are nicely contrasted – Rachel Curran's kindly Elizabeth and Corinne Woodgate's flirtatious minx Nancy.

Andy Perrin is memorably compelling as “the celebrated Sergeant Rough” - a cheery soul, with a fondness for Scotch and sweet tea. We can suspect, with Bella, that he might be a dream, an angel, and yet he is reassuringly human, untangling the plot with an assured efficiency and a reassuring smile.

Like the set, the play is beautifully constructed, and Christine Davidson's production [Barry Taylor her assistant director] has many effective moments: the hurtful “theatre ticket” volte-face done at the swag curtains, the hard-hearted husband turning his back as he deftly changes the mood from fond consideration to cruel spite.

rehearsal photograph: Leanne Young

THE UNVARNISHED TRUTH

THE UNVARNISHED TRUTH

CTW at the Old Court Theatre

02.10.16

Improbable even by the standards of farce, Royce Ryton's black comedy, first seen in 1978, provides plenty of laughter as the bodies pile up.

It all starts with the hapless playwright – presumably the role Ryton wrote for himself – killing his wife during a marital tiff worthy of Martha and George.

He's played at the Old Court by Jack Shepherd, excellent in his initial hysterics – the phone call to the deaf old locum – and later in his bemused muddling of evidence and plotlines. Two polished farceurs are embroiled in concealing evidence and fabricating alibis: John Mabey as Bert from the nick, wrestling with bodies and an orange beanbag, timing double takes and laugh lines with comic aplomb. And Bruce Thomson, physically very inventive as the literary agent, veering between panic and hauteur.

They are the monsters of Cosy Nook, joined later by Terry Cramphorn's corruptible Inspector, matching the youngsters for comic flair.

The women are all victims, though each has a little character work before conking out. Naomi Phillips as the wife, Annabel, Caroline 'Blom' Brown as the mother-in-law with the directoire knickers, Bev Benham as the eccentric landlady – a little too laid-back for a fascist, perhaps – and Sally Ransom making the most of her equally eccentric friend.

The set evokes the 70s in their eye-watering excess, the costumes are painfully period too. Director Caroline Froy – aided and abetted by Helen Quigley and Laura Hill – achieves a fast-paced, adroitly acted show, with the set pieces deftly delivered.

The audience were most amused, and so was I, despite the uneven nature of the writing and the occasional holes in the plot. A strange piece, a kind of Orton-lite, but still worth a revival forty years on.

MR KOLPERT

MR KOLPERT

CTW at the Old Court Theatre
02.08.16


Though it premièred at the Royal Court, Herr Kolpert is a German play [by David Gieselmann, uncredited in the programme]. Which poses problems for the translator [David Tushingham, similarly overlooked]. Do we stick with the Germans, or shift the whole thing to England – Lavenham gets a surprising name-check – on the assumption that Germans are the same as the English apart from the language. Yasmin Reza's work suffers from this dilemma – the solution often seems to be more expletives, and Tushingham tends to go the same way.
Richard Dawes' boldly Absurdist production solves it neatly – the characters are so stylised that we don't worry about nationality, or whether this is a convincing German architect or an English chaos researcher. What tends to get lost, though, is the unsettling suspicion that manic homicidal violence lies dormant under the most normal of outward appearances. But it makes for great entertainment, with plenty of what the director calls “impact”.
His five actors step confidently up to the mark. Tony Ellis is the waspish Ralf, Kelly McGibney his voluptuous lady in red – both deliver their monologues with style. The “entertainment” for their evening in is to be her co-worker Edith – a wonderfully nervy, mousy character from Jennifer Burchett – and her angry architect partner Tom Tull, “a little forthright, sometimes”, a study in furious thunder. And let's not forget the Scottish Pizza Girl – a perfect gum-chewing cameo from Ellie Uragallo.
And what of Kolpert himself, the lift-hopping lothario from Accounts ? Well, that would be giving the game away. But things turn darker once the take-away tiramisu hits the fan, with a gob-smacking guignol dénouement.
“Decency? I don't know what that is,” says Edith as this worm begins to turn. Shades of Orton, I thought, one of many dramatic echoes in the piece: Albee, Hitchcock, Tarantino, even Ayckbourn.
Fine performances and imaginative staging make this a dazzling outing for an obscure one-acter, with an eclectic sound-track, a quirky set [brolly and truncheon on the walls] dramatic lighting and a lovely Hawaiian themed curtain call.

production image: Barry Taylor

THINGS TO COME - COMPLEAT FEMALE STAGE BEAUTY

THINGS TO COME - COMPLEAT FEMALE STAGE BEAUTY

Another interesting rarity from CTW – The Compleat Female Stage Beauty [filmed in 2004 as Stage Beauty] – by American dramatist Jeffrey Hatcher. It's a witty, bawdy look at the London of Samuel Pepys and Nell Gwynn, and the radical changes that swept through the acting profession during the Restoration.

The central character, Edward Kynaston, played at the Old Court by Philip John Hart, was one of the last of the Restoration “boy actors” - young men who specialised in playing women on stage. By 1661 actors like Kynaston were playing both male and female roles (sometimes in different productions of the same play) with equal success. Kynaston was, according to Pepys, a beautiful man who made convincing women on the stage and was thus blessed with the opportunity to play many of the plum dramatic female roles of the day. He was, in essence, the compleat actor! Jeffrey Hatcher's play explores both gender and social issues with his customary frankness: not a suitable play for children.
It plays at the Old Court in Springfield Road from 28th June to 2nd July, and you can also catch it in the uniquely atmospheric setting of Ingatestone Hall on the 20th, 21st and 22nd July.
Tickets for both from www.chelmsford.gov.uk/theatres or call the Civic Box Office on 01245 606505.

BIRDLAND

BIRDLAND

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at The Old Court Theatre

24.05.2016

“Take me to the distant past; I want to go back...” Everything Everything. Pre-show music for our hero, perhaps, a rock-star rake who ends up wondering how he fetched up here – in debt and in disgrace, too famous to live a normal life.

Fame as Faustian pact, rock god losing it; they're not exactly original ideas, and this play, a 2014 work from Simon [Curious Incident] Stephens sometimes loses its way. But it's given a bold, in-yer-face outing by CTW, on a thrust stage, dramatically lit, with a suggestion of an arena rig behind the action. White noise, not rock music, links the many scenes.

Paul, fronting a 200-gig tour with crowds of 50,000, is not a sympathetic character, with his mood swings and his ocular cocaine habit. Insecure, lacking any inhibition, he comes across as repellent, cruel, soul-less and egocentric. We never hear him sing, and look in vain for the charisma that attracts his fans. He's given a typically gripping performance by James Christie: his confession to his old friend and musical partner Johnny [Tom Tull, in a nicely grounded performance] is painful to watch – especially so close-up – as he begins to crack under the pressure. Effective duologues with David his agent and his impecunious father, and a demanding tour-de-force, though perhaps too articulate for this offensive, foul-mouthed bully.

Laura Bradley shines as the star-struck mathematician Jenny who finally turns on her hero. Jennifer Burchett is excellent as the tragic Marnie, as well as Marnie's mum and Nicola the groupie. Jade Flack makes the most of the expat interviewer and other characters, including one of the Babylon whores whose surreal interrogation of the singer is perhaps an early sign of his breakdown. Echoed in Act Two by the aggressive questioning in the nick.

Ian Willingham paints an impressive gallery of characters: the agent, Paul's old dad, the maecenas who likes Halliday …

Birdland is directed for CTW by Ian Willingham and Danny Segeth.

SARCOPHAGUS

SARCOPHAGUS

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at the Old Court Theatre

20.04.2016

It's thirty years since the world heard with horror of the Chernobyl nuclear reactor disaster.

The first journalist on the spot was Vladimir Gubaryev, Science Editor of Pravda. Asked to write a literary response for a magazine, he chose drama as his genre.

The resulting piece, delivered months after the event, achieved instant fame both in Russia and abroad. But it now lies largely forgotten: this was a rare opportunity to see it on stage.

Wordy, didactic and strangely lacking in drama, it presents unique challenges to the director bold enough to tackle it. In this case the intrepid Dave Hawkes, with Laura Hill. The writing is relentlessly realistic, but, wisely, the surreal elements have been played up in this production: the frantic, sinister activity under blue light, for example, and especially the outstanding tour-de-force of Andy Poole as Bessmertny [Mr Immortal] the sole patient of the Nuclear Medicine Clinic before the accident “imprisoned here as a guinea pig”.

The large cast of victims and medical staff includes Louise Hart as the Physicist, who courageously completes her research before the radiation sickness kills her, Jesse Powis as the General, blustering as the finger of blame is pointed at him, Rhiannon Thorn as the surgeon who finally cracks under the pressure, and Barry Taylor as the man with [obsolete] geiger counter, racked with guilt at misreading the disaster.

Public service announcements, music and video footage are welcome relief from the eye-witness accounts and the fact-heavy dialogue – the Investigator's interviews seem to go on forever. The set is excellent, a curved wall of curtained cubicles, recalling a health spa or sanatorium, and it is used to good dramatic effect [with a hatch for “Krolik”] not least in the curtain call.

Olivier-nominated back in '87, this is a remarkable document of a momentous event, enterprisingly revived by the CTW company. It's just a shame it's not a better play.

TERRY PRATCHETT'S MORT

TERRY PRATCHETT'S MORT

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at The Old Court

09.03.16

Mort is the eighth of the Pratchett oeuvre to grace the Old Court stage. Giving real playwrights like Ayckbourn and Shakespeare a run for their money.
Stephen Briggs' respectful adaptation uses narration sparingly; he shoe-horns in all the familiar characters and most of the best jokes. The tone is set before the show, with the catchy, bawdy Wizard's Staff song, attributed to Nanny Ogg.
Lynn Foster, who directs, assisted by Mark Preston and Sally Ransom, deploys her huge, richly costumed cast with skill: processions, carnival, time travel.
Robin Winder's set allows for dramatic entrances, as well as opening out to reveal a perspective view of Death's library, shelf after shelf of biographies and hourglasses.
The disc-world cast is led by Michael McDonagh as the hopeless apprentice of the title, with Richard James as his master, the cadaverous, sepulchral Grim Reaper. On the distaff side, Jennifer Burchett's gothic “I shall call you Boy” Ysabell, and Natalie Patuzzo's nubile Princess.
What laughs there are tend to go to those actors who aren't afraid to send it all up a bit – Mark Preston's Rincewind, Peter Jeary's Cutwell, Jim Crozier, outstanding as the old retainer Albert, who turns out to be none other than Alberto Malich - you know, the onlie begetter of the Unseen University. And not forgetting the scenes stolen by Robin Winder as Cyrus, a merrily myopic High Priest, and, best of all, a stoical door knocker.

SWEENEY TODD

SWEENEY TODD

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at the Old Court

16.12.15

Sondheim's Sweeney ? At the Old Court ? Mine certainly not the only eyebrow raised when the listing appeared.

But the production – CTW's first full musical for many a year – has proved a resounding success both financially and artistically.

Catherine Bailey's take on the show is necessarily spare and intimate. Exactly the way Christopher Bond's drama was done when it first caught Sondheim's eye. We enter past the harmonium and the man-size meat grinder waiting in the wings. The set – built in the auditorium to accommodate the notorious salon above the pie shop – is a grim Dickensian façade, with ghostly dustsheets above. The action begins with a sombre procession, before Toby draws us in to the story.

A damaged child, huddled in a strait-jacket. Tobias Ragg is often a young boy in the melodrama, much less often in the musical, since for him, as for all the principals, the writing is a real challenge. Charlie Borg makes an excellent job of it – comedy and tragedy alike: his last appearance, hollow-eyed and grey-haired, sets the tone for the emotional finale.

No surprise to see the excellent David Slater nail the title role, a riveting performance which makes the character human in his deranged passion, and effortlessly navigates Sondheim's melodic lines. But a revelation to hear CTW regulars revealed as fine vocalists: Dave Hawkes as the “abominable judge”, Chris Edwards as the revolting Beadle. And Debbie Miles as a memorable Mrs Lovett, holding her own with Slater in the duets, with excellent comic timing as well as hidden depths in, say, Nothing's Going To Harm You. By The Sea is superb, with a grumpy Todd and a fetching pair of bathing belles.

Tom Tull's fine voice as Antony, blends operatically with Jade Flack's tragic Johanna. No operatic fireworks from Harry Sabbarton's Pirelli, alas, but a sprechgesang approach which works surprisingly well.

The chorus copes superbly with the challenges of the score – good to see figures slumped at the end of the alley, and the constant presence of the heap of rags concealing Marie McNulty's beggarwoman. Though more sensitive, oblique lighting might help her melt into the shadows. The uplighting for the barber shop is very effective, however.

I've seen many Sweeneys but the powerful intimacy of this version is something special. And, at the end, after the bloodbath and the curtain call, the Stage Manager rushes on to wipe the gore from the Fleet Street floor lest the Demon Barber claim another victim ...