SUNSET AT THE VILLA THALIA

SUNSET AT THE VILLA THALIA

National Theatre at the Dorfman
17.06.2016


Thalia, the muse of comedy, is the name playwright Theo [Sam Crane] chooses for the Greek home he acquires on the island of Skiathos, almost by accident, at the start of Alexi Kaye Campbell’s new play.
Theo's work is described as “quietly political”, Campbell's is rather more overtly so – the Aegean idyll is disturbed by an American couple, encountered by chance at the airport; the military coup of 1967 is imminent. CIA agent Harvey – a great performance from Ben Miles – is uncomfortably assertive, meddling with the lives of the two naïve Brits, his manipulative machinations masquerading as kindness and generosity. The subtext, surely, is the tendency of the US to wade in to impose its will on weaker nations, defining democracy to suits its own ends.
The four meet up again nine years later. Theo and the restless Charlotte [Pippa Nixon] have two children; Harvey has been scarred by the part he played in the overthrow of Allende. He cruelly reveals to his hosts the fate of the family whose house they bought for a song on the eve of the Generals' coup.
The action sometimes seems a little contrived. The sun sets slowly at the end of each act. But all the performances are polished and perceptive; Elizabeth McGovern, tall and slender in blue, is wonderful as June, Harvey's hard-drinking wife.
Simon Godwin's production brings out the best in Campbell's play, against Hildegard Bechtler’s hyper-realistic Skiathos setting.

HUSBANDS AND SONS

HUSBANDS AND SONS

National Theatre at the Dorfman

10.11.2015

It's easy to parody the kind of gloomy Black Country working-class angst that makes up Lawrence's three plays from a century ago.

Here, they are interwoven ingeniously by Ben Power, played out in three houses packed in to the Dorfman stage, and delineated by architect plans. This geometrical design, and the floor projections, recall other work in this space, also directed by Marianne Elliott.

The coal mine is a constant presence, with rumblings and light from beneath. Women are routinely abused by black-dusted brutes, bread is burned, crockery broken, pricey prints consigned to the fire. The design [by Bunny Christie] is wonderfully evocative, and there are countless memorable stage pictures, notably the three wives standing on the tables of the three houses as the menfolk march through to the pit.

Superb acting all round, though the dialect does prove a challenge at times. Despite the title, this is really about the womenfolk – Lawrence himself appears in the guise of bookish Ernest [Johnny Gibbon]. The action is centred around the kitchens and sculleries [with an effective mix of mime and props as fires are stoked, kettles filled, pots washed]. Anne-Marie Duff is Lizzie Holroyd, trapped in a violent marriage to alcoholic Charlie [Martin Marquez]. Louise Brealy is newly-wed Minnie, Susan Brown excellent as her meddling matriarch of a mother-in-law.

“It’s risky work, handlin’ men, my lass. For when a woman builds ’er life on men, either ’usbands or sons, she builds on summat as sooner or later brings the ’ouse down crash on ’er head – yi, she does.”

THE HARD PROBLEM

THE HARD PROBLEM

National Theatre at the Dorfman

27.05.2015

Hedge funds, a gym-slip baby, neuroscience, the power of coincidence, the politics of academia.

That's a lot to pack into 100 minutes, and we haven't really looked at the Hard Problem: Cartesian dualism, consciousness, the mind/body conundrum.

I'm not sure I could have attributed it to Stoppard if I hadn't known. And what if it had landed anonymously on Nick Hytner's desk …

Of course Stoppard has previous as far as philosophy is concerned. Jumpers, for one, and, my favourite, Professional Foul, the television film where philosophers mingle with footballers. Pure philosophy gets a bit of a bashing in this latest play, and those of us expecting intellectual showmanship of the calibre of those classics will be disappointed.

One difficulty is that not many of the characters are sympathetic, nor do they seem to be drawn from life. Is that the writing, the casting or the direction ? A professor whose idiom includes “one feels” is not likely to say “haitch” for H. The wittiest thing in Hytner's production is the Venetian bed.

The dialogue often seems like a long tick-list. Teleology, Basel rules, altruism, game theory, the brain worm [Dicrocoelium dendriticum ], Godel's proof, the Prisoner's Dilemma … Characters often end up explaining stuff their listeners must already know. There's a Pilates instructor to ask the really basic questions.

Use of Pilates signals a certain laziness, perhaps. Loughborough University, too.

But there is much to enjoy, and a feast of food for thought. Together with all the ideas, there are human stories too, for Vera Chuk's sensitively drawn Bo, and for the central character, Hilary, played by Olivia Vinall.

She is picked from the slush pile to join the prestigious and amply funded Kroll Institute, though hardly seems qualified. In Vinall's performance she is touchingly vulnerable [miracle, coincidence and fireworks in her personal journey], but fails to convince as the academic – she simply sounds like an actor.

The frequent scene changes are covered by solo piano Bach – that most intellectual of musical forms – while above the stage a huge hard-wired neuron installation glows and flashes, the mind/body problem made kinetic.

A witty, clever piece, with enough twists and treats to keep us entertained. But not vintage Stoppard. If you want that, go back to Arcadia. Or for a brilliant account of Philosophy of Mind in a fictional, well-funded department, try David Lodge's “Thinks ...”, now a play as well as a novel.

RULES FOR LIVING

RULES FOR LIVING

National Theatre at the Dorfman

24.03.2015

A family gathers in the parental home for Christmas, bearing gifts and grudges, mince pies variously filo-based and gluten-free. Plus a new card game: Bedlam! For age 6 and upwards – “starts out simple but rapidly descends into chaos”.

Yes, this is right up Ayckbourn Avenue – intended neither as criticism nor as congratulation. Yet Sam Holcroft's piece is edgier, with some bolder strokes.

The McGuffin here – so beloved of the Scarborough Master – is that the entire action is ludic. The floor of the Dorfman is marked out as for a board game, or basketball, and at either end, scoreboards await.

Matt [Miles Jupp] arrives, with his up-for-it actress girlfriend [Maggie Service]. His brother [Stephen Mangan] is already here, with his wife Sheena [Claudie Blakley] and their teenage daughter. It is apparent that Matt is more at ease with Sheena, Adam more suited to Carrie. And at this point the domestic comedy is enlivened by the first of the rules: MATT:MUST:SIT TO TELL A LIE. The rules proliferate, with added riders, then game-show-style scores, until the boards are flashing as the Christmas meal, like the game of cards, achieves a sublime, and ridiculous, anarchy.

It would be unkind to include too many spoilers here, but the mood turns much darker after the sit-com introduction, largely due to the characters, at first unseen, of the paterfamilias, on parole from hospital for the day, and Emma the chronically fatigued daughter.

Much of this is very funny indeed, with some reliable targets – therapy, family rivalries, infidelity and social awkwardness. Marianne Elliott gets the most out of her cast of consummate comic actors. Jupp, successful but unhappy lawyer, star, in his younger days, of fourteen amateur musicals. Mangan, failed cricketer, now banished to a Travelodge by his insufferable wife. Service's Carrie is a hilarious if ultimately tragic study of a compulsive performer – MUST:STAND UP:AND JIG AROUND: TO TELL A JOKE:UNTIL SHE GETS A LAUGH. Deborah Findlay is wonderful as Edith, the awful mother – her rules involve Cillit-Bang and Solpadeine – with telling contributions in smaller roles from John Rogan and Daisy Waterstone. Who have no rules

It is perhaps inevitable that the Rules conceit – also a metaphor for our coping strategies, and vicious point-scoring – has diminishing returns. And, once the winner – more irony - is declared there are several places where the play could have ended, but didn't. Not that the low-key final pages, with their muted farewells, were less than effective. “One day we'll probably look back on all this and laugh!” “No, actually. I don't think we will.”

The last production of the Hytner years – very enjoyable on many levels – and well suited to the refurbished Dorfman. Not for the first time we were pleased we were looking down onto the playing area from the gods.