FRANKENSTEIN

The National Theatre in the Olivier

19.04.09

“Over-produced,” I muttered when I saw the NT Live relay of Frankenstein. I was thinking of the rain, the boat, the train, I suppose.

This week in the Olivier it was an entirely different experience. The vastness of the open stage kept everything in perspective, and though it remains true that it could be staged much more simply, Danny Boyle's production [and of course Nick Dear's take on Mary Shelley's story] was a memorable experience.

The great bell, the pod, or cocoon, from which Johnny Lee Miller's Creature is born [Shelley is vague on this...] and the dense canopy of vintage electric light-bulbs, almost organic in effect, were all brilliant pieces of stagecraft. As was the train, with its twin shadows.

The two central performances [famously alternated, like Olivier and Gielgud as Romeo and Mercutio] were searingly strong. Miller discovering his naked body, and later his voice, Benedict Cumberbatch realising what he has done, and the inevitable consequences of playing God. A second hearing revealed richness in the text, and potent echoes of literature, theology and political philosophy. Paradise Lost, of course, and original sin, with the “Monster” tasting Satan's bile. But also shades of Prospero in Karl Johnson's wonderful de Lacey – exiled from his library, but permitted to keep his books. The Creature his Caliban - “you taught me how to curse ...”

“You and I, we are one,” Frankenstein realises, alone with his creation in the waste of frost and snow. Now it is the Creator who assumes the foetal position, as the tragedy reaches, not an ending, but a conclusion of sorts. Though ironically, it is Frankenstein Senior [a towering performance from George Harris] who asks “What have I brought into the world ?”

FRANKENSTEIN THE PANTO

Little Waltham Drama

19.01.10

Who on earth thought the Modern Prometheus would make a good panto ? At least two versions have been playing this season; this one, by prolific panto peddler David Swan, is showing its age – it's a while since Blockbusters was declared too tedious even for daytime television.

A panto too far, perhaps, coinciding with sweeping cast changes at Little Waltham. Fortunately, many of the traditional elements survived the revolution: the scenic side-pieces – two Bavarian castles, one with spooky bats' eyes -, the walkabout with sweeties, Colin the drummer. There were even one or two local jokes. Those old standbys the striptease and the shadow operation were both revived, though neither was as effective as they might have been.

Margaret Surrey's production boasted a bright opener, with good character work from the Pumpernickels, Viv Abbey and Brian Corrie. Three other performers got close to the glory days: Zoe Pearson as Agnes, the knicker nicker, one of a lovely lively group of St Trinians gels, Mags Simmonds as the wonderfully named Granula [Dracula's Gran, geddit?], and John Richardson as the colourful Crackpot, whose delivery made even the lamest lines amusing. If that energy could be harnessed by his infernal machine …

Heather France was the principal boy, Prince Ludwig – presumably before he went crazy and built all those castles – and Gareth Blanks, love-child of Roy Hudd and Amy Winehouse, was the Dame who tried to keep the schoolgirls in line.