LADIES IN LAVENDER

LADIES IN LAVENDER

Hutton Players at Brentwood Theatre

15.11.17

A charming period piece, with two juicy roles for the more mature actress, two stock characters, and two cyphers for the younger generation.

Hutton Players – directed here by Patrick Stevens – field a fine sextet. The Widdington sisters, set all a-flutter by one Andrea Marowski, the Angel, the Greek God, the Polish violinist washed up on their Cornish shore, are Kathy Smith and Lindsey Crutchett, the latter especially moving as long suppressed desires are rekindled, and sibling rivalry upsets their tranquil lives. The scene in which she finishes reading The Little Mermaid as Andrea sleeps on the floor is beautifully judged.

Ruddy cheeked, outspoken Dorcas, who enjoys making a fuss and baking, is given a lovely comic performance by June Fitzgerald, while the local doctor, widower and amateur fiddler, is confidently played by William Wells.

The “artistic visitor”, sketching the shoreline and helping Andrea launch his performing career, is Louise Bridgman – her subplot scene with Dr Mead excellently played - and the enigmatic shipwrecked Pole himself is Lewis Symes.

The set is a delight – Aunt Elizabeth’s counterpane, the azure seascape simply suggested, the pre-war wireless, inhabited by Vernon Keeble-Watson’s BBC announcer, doubtless dinner-jacketed. Only the garden gate jars – better left to the imagination, perhaps.

There is, of course, much music, including a little of Nigel Hess’s splendid score for the film. It might have been better to record the first extract especially [without piano], but the frozen, spotlit solos for Andrea are very effective. Even for the unlikely Toccata of his London début, the sisters listening in at home, dressed in their Sunday best.

SEE HOW THEY RUN

Hutton Players at Brentwood Theatre

17.11.16

A quintessential English farce: coincidences and cross-purposes, mistaken identities and vicars with no trousers. And very much a period piece, though when it was written it was contemporary, the victory bells still some months in the future.

It's given an affectionately polished production by William Wells for Hutton Players. His large cast work hard to keep up the pace and capture the sublime silliness of the plot. All in a spacious, beautifully designed set with french windows, fireplace and the suggestion of a solid flight of stairs.

Four dog-collars and a pectoral cross amongst the dramatis personae: Roy Hobson is very funny as the kosher clergyman – archetype of a kind of vicar long since extinct. James Biddle the visiting preacher amusingly bemused by the chaos in the vicarage. The “also-ran” Hun on the run is Lewis Symes, and the “cheery old soul” the Bishop of Lax is played by Gavin Leary – a nicely timed performance, though a little more gravitas and a good pair of gaiters might have helped. Law and order is represented by Ed Harvey's sardonic sergeant.

Survivors of a tour of Private Lives are “a caution” in trousers, actress and bishop's niece, now the vicar's unruly wife, confidently played by Laura Fava, and, Elyot to her Amanda, Gary Ball's Clive, witty and hysterical – a fine physical performance. Ida the maid, struggling to bring sanity and order to the vicarage, is given an endearingly authentic characterization by Eleanor Burgess.

Many of these are classic figures of farce, a wonderful gift to the actor. None more so than the frustrated spinster of this parish, played in this case by Lindsey Crutchett in an outstanding tour-de-force. She doesn't miss a single trick; every moment is milked for laughs: losing control of her legs, sliding down the wall, snoring, hitting the cooking sherry … She looks the part too – sensible shoes of the right vintage, stocking seams, tweed two-piece.

Not all the accents were echt period RP, not all the laughs were perfectly timed. But even on opening night we enjoyed a truly hilarious two hours traffic of the stage: the Harvest Capers, the funny walks, and, at the end, the plot re-capped in impressively slick cross-talk.

MY BOY JACK

MY BOY JACK

Hutton Players at Brentwood Theatre

26.02.16

This poignant play tells the true story of Rudyard Kipling's boy John, killed in the trenches when he was still a teenager.
The poet, who pulled strings so that his myopic only son could satisfy his own patriotic urges, is accused by his wife and daughter of sending the boy to certain death.
David Haig's drama is powerful, and superbly constructed. Glenda Abbott's production underlines the dynamic of the plot; especially in the second act, the interplay between the family is skilfully crafted, as Carrie, Kipling's American wife, clutches obsessively at straws, poring over reports and interviews with comrades, and Kipling himself strives to “find the good in it”. “Was he pleased to be there ?” he asks the private from Jack's platoon who witnessed the last fatal attack.
In the first half, the changes of scene slow the action and disrupt the mood a little, but here too the dramatic structure is superb – the medical board chatting about the latest technology as Jack's defective eyesight is about to be revealed, the intruders on the lawn, the children sharing an illicit tipple, foreshadowing the whisky shared later to soften the blow of Jack's death.
The pivotal scene in the trenches is well handled, the Irish squaddies with their awful feet and their pigeon baskets against a swiftly erected dugout.
Most of the scenes take place in the “dark, depressing” drawing room of Bateman's, Kipling's Sussex home, spaciously realised on the Brentwood stage, with fine furnishings and Persian rugs.
The quality of the performances is outstanding. William Wells, who, like the playwright, bears a certain resemblance to Kipling, gives a wonderful period performance, stiff upper lip only occasionally troubled by raw passions. A pause, a turn of the head, express deeper feelings. He ages convincingly, reading stories to his family, and reciting as the play closes the poem he wrote the same year his beloved boy died. Lindsey Crutchett plays his wife, desperate to avert the fate she sees only too clearly for her son, searching desperately through eye-witness accounts long after her husband has tacitly accepted the truth. The lad himself is brilliantly played by Ben Sylvester; we share his frustration, the anguish of rejection, his longing to leave the family home behind. And his vulnerability, his pathetic youthfulness, is palpable. He is killed weeks after his eighteenth birthday.
Strong support from Eleanor Burgess as Jack's older sister, and Gary Ball as the shell-shocked soldier who brings a halting, haunting account of Jack's death into the tranquillity of the sitting room. He is persuaded to do so by an engagingly awkward friend, perfectly done by Darren Hannant. Sam Thorley and Andrew Spong join Ball in the fragile camaraderie of battle, and the top brass on the medical board are Alan Thorley and James Biddle.
A very impressive production of a timely, touching piece, directed with style and sensitivity and played to perfection by a fine acting company.


image from the programme design by Paul Sparrowham

OUT OF ORDER

OUT OF ORDER

Hutton Players at the Brentwood Theatre

19.06.15

Ray Cooney is the king of low farce, a genre that seems very dated these days. But, like the equally improbable Restoration Comedy, given a strong cast and determined direction it can still give an audience a jolly good evening out.

And so it proves on the Brentwood stage, with June Fitzgerald's pacy production zipping through the preposterous plot with breathtaking audacity. It's the usual tottering edifice of lies and deception erected to conceal old-fashioned infidelity with a nubile secretary.

The solid company is led by William Wells as the amusingly named Richard Willey, a junior minister – or PM's lapdog - in John Major's government. An absolute master of the style, with voice, timing and double-takes honed and polished to perfection. His sidekick – the hapless PPS George Pigden – is in the equally safe hands of Gary Ball; their work together is satisfyingly assured: the business with the mysterious stiff – a private dick, it turns out, played by Justin Cartledge – is priceless.

Romy Brooks looks and sounds convincing as the seductive socialist totty, Ben Martins rages as her jealous husband. A nice understated performance from Richard Spong as the obliging bell-hop in the Westminster Hotel, in whose snazzy suite, with its dodgy sash window, the action takes place.

Not without a few technical hitches, though the window itself, punctuating the quick-fire dialogue, behaved well. Not sure about leaving the 90s for “the present” - as usual mobile phones are the stumbling block – and the British Museum hasn't had a Reading Room since 1997.

But a fine revival of a classic of its kind, complete with dropped trousers and saucy glimpses of bare buttocks – never ask me whose …

GIGI

GIGI

Hutton Players at Brentwood Theatre

21.11.2014

Colette's classic tale is a delicate flower. Didn't really survive the hothouse Hollywood treatment; blossoms much better in Anita Loos' dramatization, chosen by Hutton Players.

June Fitzgerald's production is suitably stylish – red drapes for salon and boudoir, period furniture, and, lovely touch, a mirror in the hallway allowing a furtive glimpse of callers as they arrive and depart.

The two grandes cocottes, whose mission is to launch the child Gigi into the demi-monde, are splendidly brought to life by Lindsey Crutchett as Grand'maman, and Liz Calnan, the epitome of elegance as Aunt Alicia. Gigi's fey maman, chorine at the Opera Comique, is given an amusing but sympathetic performance by Romy Brooks, who also manages the shaky, shrill soprano with aplomb.

Sterling work below stairs from Gary Ball as the laconic butler and Hilary Andrews as the pert bonne à tout faire.

Jake Portsmouth, as the sugar magnate who falls for the lanky schoolgirl, captures the suave exterior – top class tailoring – but is too callow to convince as the notorious man about town. His sudden dramatic proposal is very effective, though, and his affection for the young Gilberte is beyond doubt.

The title role is taken by Eleanor Burgess – better as the tomboy teenager than as the seductress in a Jeanne Paquin gown, but we feel for her as she listens helplessly at doors, and spiritedly rejects the shallow life of celebrity.

Lovely costumes. A cleverly designed double set, carefully lit. The music less impressive; Adolphe Adam, name-checked with Delibes in the script, might have covered the scene changes and set the fin-de-siècle mood. A great Offenbach curtain call, though. And there's a good deal of French amongst the American idiom – an evening with a dialogue coach could have enhanced the credibility of some of the cast.

I'd forgotten how much food there is here – Grand'maman's carrots and her pork cassoulet, the ortolans at Maxim's, the queues de rat and the liquorice ...

SEASON'S GREETINGS

SEASON'S GREETINGS

The Hutton Players

Brentwood Theatre

21.11.13

Mary Redman was in the audience:

Most of Alan Ayckbourn's plays are a gold mine of opportunities for actors and directors and this black comedy view of a "family" Christmas is no exception. All the stresses and strains of people who don't see each other from one year's end to the next, the catering dilemmas, who should be kept well away from alcohol or in this case, guns.
Designer Alan Thorley came up with an impressive set with its floor plan of two living rooms and a hall with a staircase leading off one side and a kitchen on the other, plus massive Christmas tree.
Entertaining as it was this, however, led to one of the problems of this particular production - the physical distance of the audience from dialogue and action (of which there was plenty) in the hall area.
There were plenty of laughs. Especially from William Wells's enraged and outraged Howard's showpiece puppet theatre, Vernon Keeble-Watson's thoroughly nasty piece of work Uncle Harvey and Kathy Smith's outrageously drunken Phyllis. With them you knew the production was in safe hands.
The production was, however, in footballing terms a game of two halves. Some of the cast didn't realise that their distance from us at the back of the set needed more voice projection and energy so that even the front row missed lines. This contrasted with the maturer members of the cast giving it their all in voice and characterisation, and the contrast was obvious.
Gary Ball gave a nicely understated portrait of the writer guest Clive. His delicate tiptoeing scene with Amy Clayton's frustrated spinster was followed by a comic sex scene with her married sister Vikki Pead's Belinda.
Marjorie Dunn was the director.

CRANFORD

CRANFORD

Hutton Players at Brentwood Theatre

04.04.13

Not easy to put Mrs Gaskell's charming stories onto the stage. Luckily, in Martyn Coleman's 1951 version, she's on hand to help. Her portrait replaces the title cameo, and her disembodied voice [Lindsey Crutchett] guides us into Miss Matty's finely furnished parlour.

The tinkly doorbell is rarely silent, as a succession of bonneted callers bring fashion tips and gossip to share over a tisane or a hand of Preference.

Character work to relish from Julie Salter as Betty Barker, Margaret Corry as the snobby Mrs Jamieson, and Jean Morris superb as little Miss Pole. Kathy Smith makes a lovely Lady Glenmire, the only true aristocrat, and the least pretentious.

Claire Hilder is the young Mary Smith [the author in her youth], friend of our hostess Miss Matilda Jenkins, who is confidently played by Amy Clayton. Entertainingly frustrated by her new maid, later her landlady [Laura-Leigh Newton], Clayton is at her best perhaps in the few sombre moments, facing financial ruin or the death of an old love. The play leaves her pushing Pekoe to her social circle.

An almost exclusively female circle, enlivened by Martha's "follower" Gary Ball, and the bluff Hoggins [William Wells], a fan of Pickwick, published in instalments, like Cranford itself.

This most enjoyable dramatization remains remarkably faithful to the style and the culture of the book, notwithstanding nods to nudity and bondage [neither of them on stage, thank heavens, and neither of them anywhere to be found in Mrs Gaskell's chaste pages …]

Cranford was directed for Hutton Players by Margaret Goldstone.

rehearsal photograph by      Andy Lee

PLAZA SUITE

PLAZA SUITE

Hutton Players at Brentwood Theatre

29.03.12

Since it opened in the Sixties, Neil Simon's Plaza Suite has never been short of bookings – its three playlets reveal a lot about human nature as three couples check in for a night in 719.

Hutton Players brought us a stylish, polished revival, with six seasoned actors taking the main roles.

From Mamaronek, Sam and Karen. He's a stressed businessman, almost certainly nursing an ulcer as well as lusting after his secretary, and he was played to the life by Paul Sparrowham, with Lindsey Crutchett outstanding as his fussy, voluble wife. Her phone call to room service was pitch perfect, and I loved the moment when her wig and her brave face were both discarded.

From Hollywood, famous producer Jesse [Mark Godfrey], and Muriel, nervous from New Jersey, an old flame who's finally sweet-talked into bed with vodka stingers and a red-carpet roll-call. This "uncorrupted woman" was the excellent Chrissie O'Connor, in a performance of great subtlety and pathos.

And from Forest Hills, parents of the bride Roy and Norma, played for all they were worth by Liz Calnan and William Wells – lots of physical comedy as he counts the cost and she goes to pieces.

Ray Howes directed, and also designed the opulent, colour-coordinated hotel setting.

HAY FEVER

The Hutton Players

Brentwood Theatre 

March 24 2011

Mary Redman was at the back of the stalls ...

Noel Coward was known as The Master for many reasons including his mastery of sparkling repartee, his use of language to define both character and class, for the craftsmanship of his plays and their sheer entertainment value. Any group that wants to recreate for us his lost world needs to pay careful attention to pace, diction, period details and above all, energy. The plays need to sparkle as they have always done.

I saw this production on opening night and by the interval at the end of Act I was ready to shoot myself. This really surprised me because many of the members of Hutton Players are of mature years to remember how things were done as far as social and table etiquette are concerned. Plus they have enormous theatrical experience.

First of all Ray Howes's set design was so disappointing, being very déclassée and looking as though it was furnished from a jumble sale. Certainly not shabby chic - if that was the intention. One has to remember that this was a country home at Cookham, not a cottage, and this set didn't scream at us that it was the comfy retreat of an enormously successful actress and equally successful writer. Plus sight lines for the sofa were so bad much of the action was missed.

As the two younger members of the ironically named Bliss household, Vicky Wright's Sorel looked extremely good but swallowed her words while both she and John Mabey's Simon lacked the necessary pointing of lines so that by contrast with the older cast members there appeared to be two different plays going on. Helen Robins as the very young ingénue Jackie was another one who looked daintily pretty but whose words were often hidden by her giggles

As the house and its Japanese Room filled with extra guests invited without prior warning by every member of the family for a “quiet weekend” the production underwent a transformation. The great change came in Acts 2 and 3 when the other characters really came into their own, perhaps after an interval team pep talk by the director Marjorie Dunn rallied the troops.

Margaret Corry's “retired” leading lady and grande dame of the theatre took to her role with relish. Clashing verbal swords with her friend Myra (Meryl Spinks in fine form and equally ready for battle), the two of them took no prisoners. Watching them in both verbal and physical action was like being in the front row while a well-matched pair of Wimbledon Ladies Finalists played a blinder of a swift power serve and volley match lightened by the occasional lengthier rally.

Observing the action and giving the ingredients an occasional stir or nudge whilst enthusiastically lapping up the resulting effects was Martin Goldstone's David Bliss, innocent as the day is long and a bit of a dog to boot.

Excellent supporting work came from Lindsey Crutchett's withered twig of a theatrical dresser now enlisted as a housekeeper and Alan Thorley's enthusiastic admirer of Sorel.

The utter, five star highlight of the evening was the exquisitely played and timed flirting scene between Judith and William Wells's boring Richard with his character's annoying attempts at a “natural” laugh. Watching his body language as he leaned further and further off centre, quite overwhelmed by Bliss, spoke volumes about his pop-eyed astonishment at being supposedly wooed by a “bedazzled” and entrancing Judith blatantly re-enacting one of her major stage successes.

Kathy Smith's faultless, hard working stage management team deserve every praise especially for the speed with which they set up the complete breakfast for eight.

The result is that whilst I wouldn't willingly want to sit through Act 1 again the rest of this production was great fun and full of goodies.

84 CHARING CROSS ROAD
The Hutton Players, Brentwood Theatre
November 19 2010

Mary Redman was at the opening night:


The unmistakeably riotous, raucous, wake-up and look at me opening clarinet swoops of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue shook the audience to attention for Act I of Roy Howes' production of James Roose-Evans's adaptation of the true life, transatlantic relationship by letter between two people who never actually met. Act II opened with an equally brash excerpt from Bernstein's On The Town.
Multi talented director Roy Howes was responsible for the soundtrack which played an important role in adding appropriate atmosphere such as NYPD sirens and barrel organs. Also for the spacious but cluttered set with the London and New York areas clearly defined yet hugger mugger and cheek by jowl with each other.
Period details and props for the austerity period immediately following World War II when second hand booksellers shops dominated Charing Cross Road were edited by Sue Grandison.
For those unfamiliar with this soothingly quiet, introspective story Helene Hanff was a New Yorker who by chance contacted Frank Doel's employers to supply much-wanted books. Author and playwright Hanff finds she can obtain the rare books that she adores direct by post from Marks and Doel in particular is the employee who deals with her requests and finds her treasures. Their unique friendship survived across the decades to 1971.
Two of arguably Brentwood's best non-professional actors occupied the contrasting characters of sharply-edged Helene and mild mannered Frank. William Wells utterly at home in his totally unflashy role and Lindsey Crutchett edgily nestled up in her American hidey holes, a fine critic of other writers.
Everyone of the supporting roles played by Claire Hilder, Chrissie O'Connor, Martin Goldstone, Andrew Lee, Margaret Goldstone and Margaret Corry added to the believable bookshop routines as warm characters in their own right. My only quibble - Andrew desperately needed a short back and sides haircut for authenticity.
Cast, backstage team and director made us care about every one of the onstage characters as the years did their best and worst with them from 1947-1971.
I cried like a baby all through the second act of Shadowlands at Chelmsford Theatre Workshop some years ago. Equally, for the first time in 15 years' reviewing and adjudicating at Brentwood Theatre I couldn't hold back the tears at the quiet dignity and anguish of the writing and acting at the end of this beautifully detailed and controlled production. I know I wasn't alone.

TARTUFFE
Hutton Players at the Brentwood Theatre
26.03.10


Marjorie Dunn's magnificent production had elegant furniture, suspended screens and serious wigs.
Ranjit Bolt's cleverly colloquial verse translation needs careful work to avoid plodding pantomime delivery, and not everyone was as successful in this as Glenda Abbott's pert maid Dorine, or Robert Bastian's dupe Orgon. John Mabey was a convincing son of Orgon, who sees through the “censorious fraud” of the title, nicely played by Alan Ablewhite, in a monk's habit, for some reason.
Much of the play is static, relying on the words and the intrigue, but I liked the scene changes done as a kind of ballet, to Lully, I presume. Martin Goldstone also spoke the Deus ex Machina at the end very stylishly; good to have voices such as his, and Brian Terry's [Loyal], in these small but vital roles.


Jim Hutchon's review for the Brentwood Weekly News :


Marjorie Dunn’s joyous production of Moliere’s 17th Century comedy was full of wit and style, and carried the jokes and clever language down the intervening 346 years untarnished (with some help from translator Ranjit Bolt). There was much invention and strong characterisation from all of the committed cast, who, after slightly shaky beginnings, handled the rather strict rhymes and rhythms with a natural air.

Based on the (then) risky assertion that much of religion is crooked, the key fraud (Tartuffe) was Alan Ablewhite, totally convincing as an unctuous monk inserting himself by degrees into the affections of the weak head of a rich family. Robert Bastian was that head, though I felt he could have toned down his very powerful performance for one a little more hesitant and deluded. As a Jeeves-like servant with a wide range of voices, Glenda Abbott was masterful in her scheming to rescue the family from their own folly. The seduction scene on a table-top between the wife of the house (delicately played by Meryl Spinks) and the monk, where she endeavours to reveal to her husband the monk’s true intentions, was genuinely memorable – especially when the husband was under the table!

Ray Howes’ very stylish set relied on hanging frames of gauze and a few sticks of furniture, and the costumes and wigs were completely in character for the period. Scene changing was done in a balletic fashion by Chrissie O’Connor and Martin Goldstone. This was a rare evening of real enjoyment for the near full house at Brentwood Theatre.

Jim Hutchon

THE CROOKED ROAD

Hutton Players at the Brentwood Theatre

14.11.09

Disabled daughter of a general, Helen Croft [Margaret Goldstone] has fallen on hard times. Reduced to taking in paying guests, she graciously holds out a helping hand to those in need.

But her scrapbook of deserving cases serves a darker purpose – blackmail.

Janet Allen's wordy potboiler [“intensely realistic drama”, say the publishers] premièred in 1958. It is rarely revived.

The Hutton Players' production, directed and designed by Ray Howes, used the space effectively to suggest the large garden, with ingenious sliding gauzes for the changes of scene. There were some fine performances, telling mood shifts, and dramatic confrontations. But not enough to make this old-fashioned piece, redolent of tea-tray matinées and weekly rep, into a worthwhile revival.

William Wells successfully inhabited the complexities of his character, the drug addict who “ finds release from a sadistic, possessive woman in the hardest, most honourable way “ - I quote the blurb again. And I liked Margaret Corry's Rose – a proud and touchingly maternal housekeeper. A little more contrast between Helen and her sister [Chrissie O'Connor] would have helped the drama, but both had their moments – Helen's hospital monologue for example. The below-stairs lovers were pertly played by Claire Hilder and Marc Barnes.