A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Mike Maran at the Cramphorn Theatre

19.12.10

Stark railings, a bare tree, snow. Mike Maran's unique re-telling of Dicken's seasonal classic uses all his special skills and techniques as a story-teller – repetition for one – to bring new life to the characters. Maran's naïve, slightly hesitant delivery persuades us that he is discovering the plot for the first time, before Scrooge became a by-word for miserliness and “Bah Humbug!” entered the language, and so we relive it anew with him.

In our mind's eye we see the transparent ghost, the hide-and-seek house, the barrels of oysters, and Fezziwig's warehouse filled with party guests.

A faithful dramatic adaptation – the latest in a line that began only weeks after the story appeared in print. Though after the interval, when the tree was dressed and the railings were crowned with candles, there was more music - including a song – accompanied by the silent witness to the tale, Norman Chalmers, standing in for Cratchit and one of the spectres, rattling chains, lighting candles and playing thumb piano, whistle and squeezebox.

The music was specially composed by Alison Stephens, long-time collaborator with Maran, for her mandolin. She died last October, before she could join the Christmas Carol tour; this wonderful production is dedicated to her, and is helping to raise funds for a scholarship in her memory.

CH@TROOM

Tomorrow's Talent at the Cramphorn Theatre

12.12.10

Irish playwright Enda Walsh's one-acter puts teenage chatroom conversations under the spotlight. It starts innocently enough, feeling betrayed by Britney, brainwashed by children's books, Willy Wonka the worst.

But it soon takes a darker turn, as Jim [Sam Toland] reveals his moment of truth in a parish Passion Play. And is tempted by thoughts of suicide. This central role was played with depth and subtlety, especially in his Penguin Day soliloquy, and the final sequence when his life was saved by Laura15 and the redemptive power of Frankie Laine's Rawhide.

Jessica Moore was Laura, and Alex Houlton very believable as Jack, who was out of his depth as soon as the conversation moved away from Harry Potter; Emma Bennett's ingenuous Emily was similarly naive. The malevolent William, all innocence on the surface, was excellently done by Matthew Bonner, with Deanna Byron convincing as the other voice of depressive despair.

Director Gavin Wilkinson was asking a lot of his young actors. They sit alone in their adolescent bedrooms – facing front in cheap plastic chairs - there's no eye contact here. Online interactions, where words are power and rooms have rules, were never as vivid and personal as this, surely. “Chat”, in this context, is mainly abbreviated cliché, as stylised and shortened as a telegram or a small ad. Here we had the sentiments, but almost none of the style. I don't see that it could have worked any other way – there's not much drama in watching words scroll across a screen.

“If it wasn't such a depressing story it would be quite funny,” says one of these young citizens of cyberspace. Well, yes, and perhaps I found more to smile at than the teenagers who packed the Cramphorn.

Whatever the shortcomings of the piece, it was stunningly well done by the Tomorrow's Talent sextet [with a cowboy cameo from Mark Ellis at the end] – it was good to see these performers stretched by some real contemporary drama.

THICK AS THIEVES

Reform Theatre Company at the Cramphorn Theatre

29.10.10

Two inept petty criminals in a deserted house – a lived-in look, comfy, cream crackers behind the settee, junk mail avalanched against the front door. All it needed was the Dumb Waiter.

Mark Whiteley's clever comedy is based on a simple idea, but the crisp writing, and especially the pace and attack of these intimate exchanges, made it constantly watchable. These two likely lads are nicely contrasted – Barry Ireland, the baby-faced ex-con drinks his tea from a cup and saucer, Steph “The Earl” Ashton, his friend and mentor, from a mug. He plays with language, asking questions for “dramatic edge”, and delivering angry tirades when things, inevitably, go belly-up, and the cash in the attic turns out to be a load of old Ratners. His movie charades and his “Let Him Know” monologue were tremendous theatre.

It would be a shame to give away too much of the plot – but the hibernating, hypothermic budgie turns out to be the least of their worries, and they never get to use the QVC card or eat the Asda fare.

The play had an interesting genesis, playing in real front rooms, shops, and on the Edinburgh fringe. It started life as a 35 minute short: longer is not necessarily better, and even this excellent set was no substitute for the thrill of the site-specific.

For this tour, directed by Keith Hukin, Barry was Matthew Booth, and Steph Kivan Dene.

PALM WINE AND STOUT

Eastern Angles at the Cramphorn Theatre

08.10.10

For Black History Month, Eastern Angles are touring a commission from Segun Lee-French: Palm Wine and Stout.

It's the almost-true story of Taiye, who's drawn back from Manchester to Africa by the spirit of his long-dead twin. There he eventually meets the father he's never known, and struggles to understand the Nigerian culture he longs to embrace. His western way is to talk things through, clear the air, while his black “brother” just wants to get on with life.

Directed by Ivan Cutting and Kate Chapman, this had many of the hallmarks of Eastern Angles' work – evocative music, a small, hard-working cast, a powerful immediacy and deft, ingenious touches. I liked the radio voice, the bizarre spirits who welcomed us in, and returned as a sort of chorus. At the end, the banknotes rain down, there's drumming and dancing, and a real sense that we've shared a private, personal journey.

Taiye, who narrated much of the story, was played by a charming Joe Joseph, his father, and the brother, by Zackary Momoh. Helen Grady was excellent as his nervous, embarrassing Mancunian mum, who joins him on his quest, and Antoinette Marie Tagoe gave inspired performances as the many female family and friends they meet along the way.

photograph - Mike Kwasniak
I also reviewed this show for The Public Reviews

ESSEX POETRY FESTIVAL

at the Cramphorn Theatre

09.10.10

This year's Essex Poetry Festival ended in style with a day-long event at the Cramphorn Theatre.

Before an evening of 'lyrical dexterity, sly erotica and absurdist humour' from George Szirtes, Annie Freud and Luke Kennard, we heard Fen Song, an evocative blend of poems by Clare Crossman with songs from Penni McLaren Walker – Brian Coulston lending instrumental colour on mandolin. So the rich imagery of The Orchard Underground was followed by Gipsy Tale and “No school for you my little one ...”, her Green Man by “Jack Among the Green” and Etheldreda on the Isle of Ely by the same text as a song, to end a splendid set of East Anglian words and music.

There were readings from Essex poets Victor Tapner, Susan Grindley and Kay Chingango. And to kick off the afternoon, a lucky dip Open Mic session, considerably enlivened by contributions from Rhythmatic Dispositions, a young people's poetry collective from Tendring Technology College, who gave us witty conceits from Max, and a fresh take on Jacques' Seven Ages from Adam and Oli.

It's an oft-repeated truism that poets are not the best people to read their own work, but there were some good performances here: Ambigram from Canterbury, with their tobacco and chocolate, and Peter from Maldon, bemoaning the cat's pawprints on his car. I also enjoyed John's Instructions to the Visitor, Christopher's Provenance, about a mysterious painting, and 1915, about his grandfather's field compass. And I appreciated the happy juxtaposition of Chris's father's 'Youth' and Ralph's 'Old Age'.

CRAMPHORN LUNCHTIME CONCERT

Cramphorn Theatre

15.09.10

Wednesday lunchtimes at the Cramphorn have resumed for the autumn season, and recently we've seen Robert Brunsdon, all the way from Ipswich, on tenor and soprano sax, and Roger Montgomery on guitar.

His easy-on-the-ear set included a deep mellow sound for Witchcraft, and a classy take on Someday My Prince Will Come, with a woody tone from his vintage soprano instrument, which also featured in Bechet's evocative Petite Fleur.

A snappy Perdido, a smoky, sleepy Chelsea Bridge, and to finish, Charlie Parker's bebop classic Now's The Time.

Sympathetic, occasionally subversive piano from resident host Jeffery Wilson, who also supplied the links and the anecdotes.

Roger's programme was all-American, largely from south of the border, and mostly mid twentieth century. So we heard Jobim from Brazil, plus the lovely Carrilhoes by Rio street musician Pernambuco – its catchy simplicity captured to perfection the time and the place. Roger ended with virtuousic effects from the Wild West, and before that his own arrangement of Strayhorn's Lush Life, making it sound as if it were intended for the guitar all along ...

Coming up next week [13 October] D'Ukes, the splendidly named Ukulele band. As ever, 1pm in the Cramphorn Theatre.

Also back in business, the Chelmsford Cathedral Friday lunchtime concerts, every week at 12.30, with Crosswinds Brass, Darkwood Clarinets, Gaudeamus and the Forest School Big Band all to come before Christmas. 


of the dozens on YouTube, I've chosen this ...

SAMAY – FREEDOM OF THE SOUL

Cramphorn Theatre

18.09.10

World Music worth of the name, Samay create a fusion of Indian, jazz and European traditions, which makes a very palatable blend. Easier on the Western ear than much of the classical raga repertoire, it is melodious, inventive and hypnotic.

The five talented musicians – two from India [originally], two Brits and one from Italy – bgean with an exploratory improvisation, and then we were into a fascinating journey: the intricate rhythms of Railway Dreams, the raga-based Space Calcutta, and the joyous Fronteras, penned by Javier Geras, who played bass in an earlier Samay line-up. Mirror, Mirror which ended the first set, featured a great dialogue between Bhupinder Singh Chaggar's dexterous tabla and the sweet sarod of Soumik Datta.

Three contasting pieces concluded this gig – the last in the amazing series promoted by Gilda Sebastian. Tuesday showcased the sax of Jesse Bannister, very much the heart and soul of this outfit, and the acoustic guitar of the enigmatic Giuliano Modarelli. Not at all Eastern, really, but a funky soundtrack to a music video, set in exotic Leeds, for their début album.

Then Macondo, inspired by Marquez, and Red Sea, with mouth music and clever hand-clapping to the urgent beat.

LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS
CYGAMS at the Cramphorn Theatre Chelmsford 
24.04.10


“How does it grow, Grandad?”
The stuff of nightmares for some of the tinies in the matinée audience for Young Gen's terrific production of that grisly, twisted musical Little Shop of Horrors.


A great soundscape, a somewhat flat set, with the band at an upper window, took us down Skid Row, to watch a florist's fortunes revived by a strange and interesting plant, thirsty for human blood and world domination.


There's a boy meets girl plot in there too, struggling to get past the weirdness, as geeky, increasingly anaemic Seymour [ a superb characterization from Sam Pridige ] wins the heart
of leggy seedling Audrey, engagingly played in a girlish whisper by Annabel Bond. Her wistful yearning for Somewhere That's Green was a high point of a consistently stylish show.


Sam Toland put everything into the sadistic dentist, and Kevin Jarvis was a gravel-voiced Mushnik. Very watchable star cameos from a quick-changing Callum Crisell in Act Two, and an invisible Bart Lambert provided Audrey II [the man-eating flytrap] with a vivid vocal presence.


There were some lovely moments in Jeremy Tustin's production, - the newspapers, the faces at the window – and I especially admired the use of the urchins, and the talented backing group [Crystal, Ronette and company] whose fancy harmonies and cool dance moves were a constant delight.


production photo by Barrie White-Miller

THE LION THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE

THE LION THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE


OffSpringers at the Cramphorn Theatre Chelmsford
17.03.10


“What possessed him?” The eccentric professor [Henry Whitington] has allowed common tourists into his sanctum. And the C S Lewis estate has allowed hacks to adapt his classic works for stage and screen.


Some have been almost worthy – Adrian Mitchell for the RSC – but Irita Kutchmy's trite travesty has little sense of style either in its words or its music.


What it does do is allow a huge OffSpringers cast, some of them very tiny, to enjoy dressing as animals and being the Rabble, with Maria French's choreography making the most of every opportunity. Not a number goes by without the chorus creeping on to give support. Even the touching soliloquy for Edmund [Matthew Barnes] had Isobelle Molloy's chirpy Robin dancing around.


I liked the bold black and white setting; the all-important wardrobe was cleverly designed. Some of the most striking scenes were towards the end, with the stone table, using smoke and light to good effect. The best numbers were the tongue in cheek ones, like the tap-dancing invitation to tea.


When I saw the show, early in the run, there was some insecurity, and too many moments when nothing happened, awkwardly. The costumes, though, were superb [In Delight's Leonie Rose].


Performances of note included Tamara Anderson's seductive White Witch, well matched by Owen Green's noble Aslan. Ben Hitchen looked great as Tumnus the Faun, but could have been more fey; Eve French gave an assured performance as the youngest Pevensie – we shared her wonder as she wandered first into Narnia. Mr and Mrs Beaver [Kieran Young and and Rebekah Walker] were both very watchable; a shame they couldn't have a  better number.


The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe was directed for OffSpringers by Alexandra Arrowsmith, with June Watson as Musical Director.

RUSSELL KANE'S FAKESPEARE

at the Cramphorn Theatre

27.02.10

Is it post-modern, Miranda ?

Search me, squire. Chippy, sweary, edgy, Russell Kane has a love-hate relationship with his native Essex, its accent and its pikeys. His cod Shakespearean tragedy has a banker as King Nigel, its hero, a P.A. Donna, as his Billericay Mistress Quickly. It applies blank verse to his Essex existence, in a torrent of bawdy wit and celebrity similes.

As he said in his stand-up warm-up, its the dangerous clash of chaviness and Penguin Classics.

I think the Bard would have applauded his quick-fire word play: “Tis an inconvenient truth – Gore me not in it.” And would happily have penned some of the lines: “Who disturbs the ferryman's work ?” “Purse my lips !” And there were many laugh-aloud conceits: the “lazy plot-advancing scroll”, his wife “my orange Rayleigh sow”.

We might grow weary of the dropped low-culture names, and despite the talk of syntax, the grammar was not a patch on the scansion.

Kane's partner in crime was Sadie Hasler, an Ophelia babbling 80's Sinitta, excellent in her Essex soliloquies.

JIVIN' MISS DAISY

Chelmsford Jazz Club at the Cramphorn

07.01.10

Chelmsford Jazz Club was founded 25 years ago, and this concert was a great way to celebrate.

Though the club more usually features small combos, there are occasionally bigger bands, and Simon Thorpe's eight-piece outfit, playing authentic arrangements from the era of Basie, Ellington, Henderson and Barnet, certainly proved popular with a packed Cramphorn.

They began with Basie's In Case You Didn't Know, and ended with Spencer Williams' Everybody Loves My Baby. My favourite, and I don't think I was alone, was the Gershwins' That Certain Feeling, given a stylish big band gloss.

Their vocalist, the excellent Anjali Perin, whose warm, smooth voice, with crystal clear lyrics, made the most of classics like Blue Skies, and Brooks Bowman's East of the Sun, with a nicely understated guitar solo by Colin Oxley. She gave us a couple of Porter numbers, and the poignant ballad What's New, featuring Nick Dawson's piano and Simon Finch's trumpet.

It's a while since I was at the Jazz Club's monthly Sunday lunchtime meeting. I was impressed not just with the standard of the music, but by the warm welcome, and the sound system, each musician sensitively miked and mixed. As the wag next to me remarked, only the band's neckties were too loud...

Next meeting, on March 7, brings the Matt Wates sextet back to the Cramphorn.

FERN HILL

Guy Masterson at the Cramphorn Theatre

21.01.10

One man, many characters. Biochemist turned actor Guy Masterson began with just a taste of Under Milk Wood, the solo show he brought here last year.

Then he was off exploring the rest of the oeuvre, mining the rich vein of Dylan Thomas's poetry and prose.

Beginning with “a slap of sea and a tickle of sand”, that glorious evocation of seasides past in Holiday Memory. Masterson peopled the beach with assorted families, plus a beautifully observed glum donkey. Spitting, snarling, slinking and sliding cats in the snow, with even more aunts, uncles and scampering kids in A Child's Christmas in Wales, which ended this superb performance all too soon.

Between these two solid bookends, a collection of poems, including Masterson's favourite, Fern Hill, the tragic Lament, and Thomas's musing on his work, In My Craft or Sullen Art.

Other delights were a third story, the hilarious but touching Visit to Grandpa's, and in a moment's breather between poems, a brilliant re-creation of the poet himself reading, and the famous Richard Burton First Voice.

And it was Under Milk Wood which provided a coda, a kind of benison:

Eli Jenkins' sunset poem.

Every morning when I wake,

Dear Lord, a little prayer I make,

O please to keep Thy lovely eye

On all poor creatures born to die

And every evening at sun-down

I ask a blessing on the town,

For whether we last the night or no

I'm sure is always touch-and-go.

We are not wholly bad or good

Who live our lives under Milk Wood,

And Thou, I know, wilt be the first

To see our best side, not our worst.

O let us see another day!

Bless us all this night, I pray,

And to the sun we all will bow

And say, good-bye--but just for now!

Hear Guy Masterson's Fern Hill

and Dylan Thomas's My Craft ...

A WARNING TO THE CURIOUS

Roger Lloyd Parry at the Cramphorn

17.01.10

This pair of M R James stories completes Nunkie Theatre Company's ghostly trilogy. Art Historian extraordinaire Roger Lloyd Parry has said that this will be his last such tour - “at least in this lifetime”.

We shall miss him. The format is simple – the bookish study of a garrulous academic, lit only by a few candles. A vague shape behind the armchair, only a coatstand, surely. And with the candlelight come shadows, just as deep and mysterious as those in the Provost's room in King's where these stories were first told.

Aldeburgh – thinly disguised as Seaburgh – is the setting for the title story, in which a young archaeologist foolishly braves the guardians of the ancient crowns of Anglia. The climax, with mist, Martello Tower and skeletal footprints was chilling indeed.

In “Lost Hearts”, the mood is menacing and melancholy. A country house, not unlike Henry James's Bly, two ghostly children, ancient black magic, and the various characters all cleverly suggested by the story-teller's art. I was sorry we didn't have the smell of the incense, though.

Lloyd Parry's skill lies in drawing us affably into this world of apparitions, making M R James's words sound new-minted in the warm Christmas Eve candlelight.

Animal Farm

Guy Masterson Productions

Cramphorn Theatre

22nd October 2009

Jim Hutchon was there for the Weekly News ...

This was a truly astonishing feat of theatre. One man, Gary Shelford, he of the super india-rubber body, was able to transform himself into any number of farm animals, and give really convincing representations of them all, from chickens to pigs to shire horses. With a few very effective sound effects, a stunning lighting scheme and a bale of hay on stage, Gary brought the full political significance of Orwell’s masterpiece to life.

The performance was full of almost balletic grace, combined with Gary’s natural story-telling ability, using Masterson’s perfectly-formed, pared down adaptation of the book. But none of the nuances were lost, the sly manipulation by the pigs, and their leader Napoleon, to position themselves in control, the cynical lies and spin brazenly broadcast, the discarding of the workers like Boxer, are all presented to replicate our world today, highlighting the genius foresight of the author.

THE MAN WHO WAS HAMLET

George Dillon at the Cramphorn

24.09.09

Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford, favourite of the Virgin Queen, resident of Hedingham castle. And author of the plays and poems usually attributed to Shakespeare.

Or so many of his fans, following the eminent John Thomas Looney, would have us believe.

In this fascinating one man show, George Dillon has de Vere come back from the dead to tell his history, pointing up the parallels with the Prince of Denmark, but without explicitly making any claims.

The audience are to “sit in judgement”, it seems, as Edward, like Faustus with “one bare hour to live”, travels in his “mind's eye” from Castle Hedingham to Cecil House, from Venice to Verona to Illyria. He paraphrases Hamlet, colourfully insults Sir Philip Sidney on the tennis court, and twice meets the Stratford simpleton who is fit only to hold his horses.

We meet Lord Burghley, Arthur Golding, the pope in Rome, George the clown, as well as the Virgin Queen and the 16th Earl, his father, whose death unhinged the boy.

A clever conceit, compellingly delivered, with Dillon's clear diction encompassing bleeding chunks of the canon, cod Shakespeare and modern asides. The anachronisms were effective - I was less happy about the solecisms - maybe a script editor ? The piece was directed by Denise Evans, with music by Charlotte Glasson.

It may not make Oxfordians of us all, but we may well wonder, with Bernardo, “Is not this something more than fantasy !”.

“O God! What a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, I leave behind me! In this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story!”

Hamlet / Edward de Vere

CRAMPHORN LUNCHTIME CONCERT

Bill Bradley, guitar

09.09.09

We had no programmes, no enthusiastic intro. And Bill Bradley had forgotten his sheet music. But his love of the guitar, and his memory, guaranteed a delightful hour, the first of this season's Cramphorn lunchtimes.

He began with a John Williams arrangement of Bach's Third Cello Suite, with his familiar Bourrée. It was an intense but gentle performance, as he caressed the melodies from the strings.

Quieter still was the René Lacote guitar, 1820, Paris, inlaid with jet and ivory, which he used for a Bach Waltz.

Despite the beard and the cider bottle, Bradley is not a folk song collector, but his own English Suite [obviously influenced by J S Bach] incorporates many traditional nautical melodies: a skiff in a storm, a calm idyll, then rain and the sun setting over the island of Fand.

The set ended with jazz – a tribute to Ellington “who wrote music that for many people became the sound of love.”

The regular Wednesday sessions continue weekly into January, including return visits by Cramphorn favourites like Kay Usher, Saxology and Susie Self.