SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS

SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS

Mercury Theatre Colchester

for The Reviews Hub

This sparkling Snow White – Daniel Buckroyd’s fourth panto for Made in Colchester – is a delightful cocktail of glamour, glitter and good old-fashioned fun.

David Shields’ designs feature giant candles, surrounding the flown title, and later the magic mirror and the Princess’s glass coffin. There’s an impressive dungeon laboratory, as well as a charming cottage for the Dwarfs, which opens out like a book as Snow White walks in. The pyrotechnics are safely in the ceiling, and there’s a stunning mirror-ball above our heads.

We begin traditionally, with a stand-off between Good and Evil, familiar banter from Fairy Blossom and wannabe Maleficent, the tamely named Enchantress. Both, incidentally, excellent singers, more than capable of selling their big numbers to a noisy opening night crowd.

Then a wordless waltz behind the gauze - “the artistic bit”, as Nurse Nellie has it; she makes a low-key appearance (how hard must that be!) in this scene-setting backstory.

Antony Stuart-Hicks – his third time out on the Mercury stage – is the Dame - “back to lower the tone”. A masterclass in this unique genre, much harder to nail than many people think. He takes the audience by the scruff of the neck, with quick-fire gags of varying degrees of smut, and astounding audience skills. A late-comer, quite far back in the stalls, is the target for some acid remarks, before Nellie charges up to him, inspects his hands, berates his lateness, and in a priceless pay-off discovers he’s a police officer. And doesn’t forget ...

Other Colchester favourites are back, too: Simon Pontin is promoted to Chamberlain this year; Dale Superville is Muddles, another perfect panto personality. A beautifully youthful Snow White, spirited and excellently sung, from Megan Bancroft. Her “true love” who wakes her with his kiss, is the bookish young Rupert, Alex Green. The ageing king, bewitched by the wicked queen and trapped in the mirror, is James Dinsmore.

The good fairy is a cuddly, bubbly Gbemisola Ikumelo, more than a match for the Enchantress of Carli Norris. This is a remarkable performance, her dialogue peppered with hashtags, managing the evil as well as the vocals and the comedy (a nice bit of business with the apples). She looks stunning too – the devil has all the best gowns here. At the end, of course, she sees the error of her ways, when the frog is snogged and everyone is Walking on Sunshine.

Although the script does not shy away from the darker elements of the Grimm story – the poison, the deer’s heart, the tomb - most of the traditional tropes are in place: A Ghost Routine in the Spooky Wood – no mere king-size sheet here, but a splendidly costumed spectre – a classic mirror number, complete with vibraphone underscore, an audience song (Wiggly Woo, in case you want to practise beforehand) and a shout-out for Lorna the birthday girl and the Rainbows and Brownies packing the front stalls. And scarcely any topical gags – Adele and Theresa May the only victims.

Richard Reeday leads a band of three in the pit, with a nicely eclectic playlist, from Positive Thinking – a great duet that could have come from any panto over the last forty years – to Bieber’s Puerto Rican hit from earlier this year. The Disney songs – now 80 years young - are strictly off limits, of course, though the Dwarfs sail pretty close with the Spanish Jai Ho, and an ingenious reworking of a Jeff Beck hit from the 60s, Hi Ho Silver Mining. There’s even a cheeky Hi Ho at the end of the Wizzard festive encore.

And what of the Dwarfs ?  Not the junior chorus (these talented Apples and Pears, nicely choreographed by Charlie Morgan do the cute woodland creatures and general ensemble) but new and original characters – the Captain, a Scotsman, a French chef, Windy, the last to arrive … done as puppets by Abigail Bing, voiced and moved by members of the cast. Though panto lighting (Mark Dymock) is not perhaps best suited to puppetry, this is a refreshingly original touch in an otherwise traditional treatment.

PETER PAN

PETER PAN 

Mercury Theatre, Colchester

02.08.2017

for The Reviews Hub

A magical, enchanting Peter Pan to follow James and the Giant Peach and Wind in the Willows onto the Mercury stage in the long vacation slot.

Not just another attempt at the increasingly popular summertime panto, but an adaptation, by Daniel Buckroyd and Matthew Cullum (who also shared directing duties), which manages to seem fresh and child-friendly while still respecting J M Barrie's original.

The nursery furniture is shrouded in dust-sheets as we arrive. Simon Kenny's set is uncluttered and inventive, shape-shifting to the Neverland island and the deck of the pirate ship. Drawers pull out to form beds, the crocodile is suggested by a pair of headlamp eyes before making its spectacular final appearance.

The story – quite complex for the youngest minds – is bookended by a prologue and an epilogue in which the actors tell the story in the time-honoured Nicholas Nickleby style. Their boisterous play foreshadows adventures to come (except perhaps for the farting teddy-bear).They are musicians too, and apart from Wendy (Charlotte Mafham) and Peter, play multiple roles. This doubling is very slickly done – the performers rarely leave the stage altogether – and is often part of the entertainment; the Lost Boys are picked off one by one only to re-enter moments later to swell the pirate band. Particularly impressive character work from James Peake as Nana, a convincing canine in fur coat and flying helmet, as well as Cecco the pirate and the know-it-all Slightly Soiled, and Alicia McKenzie as a feisty fairy Tinkerbell and a peg-leg pirate Jukes.

Peter himself is played by Emilio Iannucci, a winning blend of innocence and bravado, and Pete Ashmore, a familiar face on the Mercury stage, takes on the traditional pairing of Mr Darling and Captain Hook. Not your average old Etonian, maybe, despite his dying words, but he handles his cod-Shakespeare convincingly.

“I do believe in fairies,” whispered one little girl in our row, in a moment of unprompted empathy. The production is aimed squarely at children, as is only right, though there were subtleties to satisfy the most jaded adult palate, and the ingenious costume and scene changes help to maintain our interest. All the magic is that special theatrical kind, where our imagination is willingly co-opted to do half the work. Tinkerbell dances as a light on the end of a long wand; Curly's kite is attached to a stick. And, though there's no Kirby, no Foy, the flying sequences are thrillingly done in the simplest way possible.

It is very pleasing to see several editions of the book on offer amongst the crocodile merchandise. And of course, as Barrie intended, the production will benefit the beleaguered Great Ormond Street Hospital.

The sad and the sinister are not neglected: Peter's unwillingness to be touched, or the “tragedy” of the ending, in which Wendy's daughter assumes her role as mother to Peter and the Lost Boys.

Richard Reeday's music underpins the action – there are few big numbers – and it's fun to see the flute, the tuba and two violins shared amongst the colourful characters.

The final tableau sees Peter framed in the window, still looking out beyond the stars to the Neverland, before the braver children in the audience are allowed to explore the nursery for themselves, try out the beds and peek into the delightful dolls' house where Peter's shadow was hidden.

production photograph: Robert Day

MICHAEL MORPURGO'S FARM BOY

MICHAEL MORPURGO'S FARM BOY
A Made in Colchester Production
at the Mercury Theatre, Colchester
18.06.2017

for The Reviews Hub

This is the sequel to Morpurgo's phenomenal War Horse. It's a very different animal – a couple of actors, a costumed musician, and, centre stage “an old green Fordson”, the tractor which turns out to be at the heart of this story. But it succeeds on its own terms, since, as in War Horse, the author's skill as a story-teller carries the narrative, and keeps the audience enthralled.
This ingenious adaptation is by Daniel Buckroyd, now the Mercury's Artistic Director, and it was first seen here in 2012. This new production, directed by C P Hallam, has been touring local schools, with just one weekend on the Mercury main stage.
The two actors take the roles of Grandpa, who's actually the son of Albert from the earlier piece, and his grandson, who as a young child played at farming seated on the ancient tractor, and eventually takes over the farm. The relationship between the two is beautifully drawn – teasing, encouraging, and, in the play, unselfconsciously sharing all the other roles, including the Corporal, as the adult Albert is known in the village, the grandmother Maisie, and rival farmer Harry Medlicott. 
The old man loves to remember, and loves to tell his stories. But illness and idleness have left him illiterate, and after his wife dies, he persuades the boy to teach him his letters. As a reward, his grandson gets £100 and a story, ten pages of painstakingly pencilled capital letters.
This story of the ploughing match, pitting horses against horse-power, is the thrilling climax of the piece. The staging is simple, stripped-back. The two horses are step-ladders, the cockerel a rubber glove, Medlicott's paunch the cushion from the tractor's seat. Ru Hamilton's music underpins the action beautifully – flute for the flight of the swallow, harp for midnight Christmas Eve – the old ballad Dives and Lazarus effectively quoted here and elsewhere. And for the competition on Candlelight Field, a cello, joined by a bucket for a drum, the jingle of the harness and percussion on the Fordson.
The two actors – Danny Childs as the boy, Gary Mackay as the old man – draw us in to the story, and seem to relish bringing the scenes to life. Nothing is over-stated. We use our imaginations as they use theirs – they talk of horses, and we see them. The old man speaks of death, as he recalls his father's terrible trauma in the trenches. The boy, who pulled the cornsacks off the old tractor at the back of the barn all those years ago, returns to the farm after college, and finally restores the Fordson, which triumphantly bursts into life as this lovely sixty-minute show ends.
It's good to be reminded of the power of words to carry a story; the magic of theatre does not have to rely on technical wizardry and special effects.

production photograph: Robert Day

THE EVENTS

THE EVENTS
A Made in Colchester Production at the Mercury Theatre Studio Colchester 
06.06.2017
for The Reviews Hub


First seen in 2013, and inspired at least in part by the Anders Breivik massacre of the year before, David Greig's powerful piece has been revived many times since.
Dan Sherer's production in the Mercury Studio is intensely visceral, its impact enhanced by the intimacy of the staging.
James Cotterill's set suggests a church hall; a uniform, monochrome grey for the walls and all the furniture, fixtures and fittings. There are skeletal trees and creepers, also grey. Grim reality mingles with the darkly surreal. The threads of the narrative emerge gradually. The text is often abstruse or elliptical, highly effective, but making considerable demands on the audience,
The euphemistic “events” of the title involve the murder by a lone gunman of the members of an inclusive community choir. One of the many strengths of this production is the formation, especially for the show, of a choir that reflects the make-up of the fictional choir in the script, trained and directed by Scott Gray. They sing the chillingly appropriate Sound of Silence, and Blur's Tender. They have lines to deliver; they are involved in the expressive movement. Great work, community choir !
At its best, Greig's dialogue is moving, disturbing, terrifying. Claire, victim and survivor, fantasises about adopting “The Boy” - the killer – dreams of terrible revenge, of smothering him at birth. The young man - “a Europe-wide malaise”, a tribal warrior – lives out his first “berserking” with frightening force. Their meeting – the desperate “forgiveness lady” sitting opposite the nervous, awkward boy in specs, confusing Claire with some girl in a silver car – is utterly gripping.
Not all the scenes have quite so much dramatic strength; not all of the characters Claire meets – all played by The Boy – are as convincing as The Father or the racist Politician. And it is not clear why Greig conceives Claire as a priest. The character is strong and believable, the psychology underpinning it is entirely credible. But religion has very little role, and she simply fails to convince as a woman of the cloth.
Both actors are phenomenal. Anna O'Grady inhabits Claire's haunted face very movingly – impossible not to share her distress, her mixed emotions, her trauma. And Josh Collins – memorable as the young squaddie in the same team's Bully Boy here in 2015 – handles the very challenging role of the terrorist sensitively. Is he mad ?  evil ?  “empathy-impaired” ?  An engaging presence, he also takes on nearly all the other roles, with almost imperceptible changes in voice and demeanour. He's The Friend, The Journalist, and Catriona, Claire's yurt-builder partner – this detail one of the few, very welcome, moments of humour in an otherwise unrelenting study of the CoD enthusiastic who kills to protect his tribe.
There is a glimpse of redemption at the end of this descent into madness; new red chairs are unveiled, and Claire's colourless world is further brightened by the new choir, gaily clad, singing a capella “We're all in here ...”
production photograph: Robert Day

SPAMALOT

SPAMALOT
A Made in Colchester Production at the Mercury Theatre Colchester 

28.04.2017
for The Reviews Hub



Is this what a definitive Spamalot would look like ?  This perennially popular show, originally a Python spin-off, has found success on Broadway and in the West End, not to mention on the am-dram scene, as this very professional company cheekily remind us.
Over the years, from celluloid to stage, it has acquired many traditional trappings. Most of them – the fish-slapping and the bible-bashing – are honoured here, but Daniel Buckroyd's production, at once irreverent and respectful, manages a good few laugh-aloud surprises on the way to Camelot.
Where the West End productions – and associated tours – have tended to make a virtue of necessity, celebrating the shoe-string, the Made in Colchester version is glitzier, meatier and much closer to a proper musical.
Or a panto, which it often emulates. A link strengthened by the inclusion in the cast of festive favourite Dale Superville as Patsy, King Arthur's side-kick, Baldrick or Sancho Panza.
His expressive features and his skill as a mime are employed to excellent effect; he's one of a very accomplished company, who enter into the spirit of Spamalot with infectious glee, never self-indulgent, playing the absurdities for all they're worth. Patsy and Arthur apart, they all play many roles, not least the two indefatigable Laker girls [Gleanne Purcell-Brown and Sally Frith] – on the plague cart one minute, in the French army the next, fan dancers and Knights of Ni. Notable turns too from Simon Shorten as Sir Lancelot, the Frenchman, and Tim the Enchanter, making a hilariously apologetic big entrance, John Brannoch as Sir Bors and many more, Matthew Pennington as a priceless Prince Herbert and a Starkeyesque Historian, Norton James as Sir Galahad and Herbert's gruff father, Daniel Cane as a gloriously gawky, moustachioed Sir Robin, and Marc Akinfolarin as a differently whiskered Mrs Galahad and Sir Bedevere.
Bob Harms plays a straight bat as Arthur King, and is all the funnier for it; his Lady of the Lake is Avenue Q survivor Sarah Harlington, giving a superb vocal performance and lighting up the stage with her star personality.
The staging and the choreography [Ashley Nottingham] are inventive and constantly diverting: the foot of God, the Spam can tap dance, the brollies for Bright Side, the actors stepping out of character for All Alone, the spinning nun, Guinevere appearing through the mist in a little canoe with a big chandelier. It's Stars not Jews this time, and there are fresh references to Harry Potter, Trump and Gandalf, as well as local name-checks for TOWIE and Darren Day. 
There's an orchestra pit for Carlton Edwards' band, and the setting is picture-book pantomime, with a lovely little round castle, moving about like a chess piece. There's even a sing-along finale, though the enthusiastic audience scarcely needed the words flown in … a fine end to a sharp, smart, scintillating production, guaranteed to help everyone to look on the bright side.

production photograph: Robert Day

DICK WHITTINGTON

DICK WHITTINGTON
Made in Colchester at the Mercury Theatre, Colchester
03.12.2016
for The Reviews Hub

Beneath the impressive 21st century gloss, and despite the Trump gags, this is a warmly traditional panto, its appeal effortlessly spanning the generations.
Director and co-writer Daniel Buckroyd has wisely re-hired many of last year's Aladdin company; they seem very much at home in the Mercury, and their banter with each other and rapport with the audience are a delight.
Dale Superville makes a perfect Idle Jack – Roger the cabin boy on the Saucy Sally, getting the kids on his side instantly; he's the ideal foil for Antony Stuart-Hicks' glamorous Merseyside Mrs Suet, alias Sarah the Cook. Tall, glamorous with ever-higher heels and coiffure, George Robey eyebrows and a tasty line in crudities, this is a classic Dame. Ignatius Anthony relishes every moment of Ratty King (“a child crying, music to my ears”), a role cleverly re-imagined as a raffish villain out to seize political power in the City of London.
Gracie Lai is an agile Thomasina the Cat – wordless, as tradition demands, but very expressive nonetheless, and superb in a mewed rendition of Memory (from Cats, in case you'd forgotten) as she hypnotises the rats in the Sultan's palace.
The fruity-toned Fitzwarren is done with some style by Richard Earl, and Barbara Hockaday pulls off an unlikely double as Fairy Bow Bells and Captain Barnacle.
Love interest in the youthful shape of “Poundland Poldark” Whittington (Glenn Adamson) and his charming Alice (Grace Eccle).
The gloss includes David Shields' wonderful set, a centre circle, the face of Big Ben projected onto it, with clockwork designs, or the houses of old London, curving around it. The Epicurean Emporium, and the pitching ship's galley are beautifully realised.
The costumes too – not only Ratty's Dickensian outfit and the Dame's eye-catching creations (bathing drawers, Essex girl beehive, and she's the only one to get a change for the actual walk-down), but the attention to detail throughout, the sparkly shoes and fezzes for the Moroccan rats, for instance.
And the timeless tradition extends to some very venerable jokes (“Avast behind!” and “All hands on deck!”, shared with the equally saucy ship at the Wolsey this year), a UV underwater ballet, a ghost routine with a rather unconvincing camel, an old-fashioned Friendship medley for Dick and his Cat, that good old campfire classic Bobbing Up and Down Like This, and a wicked Twelve Days parody featuring a huge inflatable gin bottle and celebrity chefs - “Mary Berry's cherry”.
Charlie Morgan's choreography is snappy and inventive: the talented Junior Chorus excellently employed on board ship and in the Madness rats number. Richard Reeday, who's contributed lyrics and arrangements, is the Musical Director.
One of my three wishes after last year's Aladdin was for more of the same. The Made In Colchester genies have certainly delivered, - an object lesson in how to bring fun and freshness to a winning formula.

production photograph: Pamela Raith

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
A Made in Colchester production
at the Mercury Theatre, Colchester
for The Reviews Hub
08.10.2016

No hint of the romance or sunshine of Messina here. We're in the spartan canteen of a British regiment – motto Perfer et Obdura. There's a telly in the corner, a servery, tables for mess and for ping-pong.
A chorus of Homeward Bound, and Don Pedro marches his men in, to be greeted by Essex girl would-be military wives.
It's a bold concept, and Pia Furtado's production does bring some modern insights to what is often considered a romantic comedy. But the 21st century is not a perfect fit, the quick-witted banter sits uneasily amidst the non-verbal popular culture, and of course these men are career soldiers, not aristocratic adventurers. And the harsh lighting casts distracting shadows across faces in the closer confrontations.
But the mischief and the music are very much to the fore. The fancy dress party, with genuinely impenetrable disguises, and the karaoke Sigh No More, are both very successful, (composer is Rebecca Applin) even if there's a bit too much aimless cavorting to pulsing disco beats. The gulling scenes are hampered a little by a lack of camouflage in the canteen – the pleached bower for Beatrice has to be brought on in pots, and Benedick's arbour is a ledge above the servery, where he later dons a tabard and some marigolds. The plot to discredit Hero is brilliantly done, with a borrowed bridal gown in flagrante on the upper level.
After the interval – well into Act Four – things are much darker, both literally and emotionally. The grim reality of the canteen is replaced by a dreamlike shrine to the “dead” Hero. The Madonna – and the bath – have moved down from the light boxes above. The lament at the tomb is movingly sung by the whole company, and the final wedding disco affords an upbeat ending, though, given the effective changes of mood in this production, it's a shame that the party-pooping news of Don John's capture is one of the few significant cuts.
Some lovely performances on offer: Peter Bray and Robyn Cara (making her professional début) are young, ardent lovers, Polly Lister a brooding villain, though the gender switch seems awkward.  Paul Ridley brings gravitas to the older officer, and Emmy Stonelake makes the most of the impassioned Friar. Kirsty J Curtis is Hero's maid, Margaret, a typical TOWIE young lady, chewing gum and glottal stops. (Generally the text is well served, although “Yeah” for “Yea” grates.)
The hi-viz vigilantes of the Watch eschew slapstick and easy laughs, and there's a sad lack of chemistry between Danielle Flett's Beatrice and Jason Langley's Benedick, though they bring clarity and passion to the verse, and Flett does a lovely lapwing.
Some striking stage pictures in the later scenes, and the undeniable local resonance, are not quite enough to make this a memorable Much Ado.

PRIVATE LIVES

PRIVATE LIVES

Made in Colchester at the Mercury Theatre, Colchester

25.05.2016
for The Reviews Hub

“Quite amusing. A bit dated.”
Soundbite in the rush to the bar after Act Two. Possibly the same gentleman who was gently snoring during the quieter Deauville scenes. I hope he stayed (awake) to see stuffy, "I'm glad I'm normal", Prynne kissed unexpectedly on the lips ...
Despite its eighty-six years, “dated” is one criticism that hardly applies to Private Lives, especially in this lively, stylish production by Esther Richardson. She brings a freshness and a physical energy to the characters, especially the women. Olivia Onyehara's elegant Sybil, for instance, is speechless with delight as she emerges onto the balcony at the top of the show. And speechless with rage and frustration in the Paris flat at the start of Act Three. The fights are very imaginatively staged: a lovely silence before the food starts to fly, and a perfect pillow fight before the shadows on the door announce the arrival of the abandoned other halves and the interval. The cream leather sofa in the appartement is creatively used. The re-united lovers spectate from it in the final moments, before packing (their shadows on the frosted glass of the bedroom door) and escaping with one last incredulous look from the doorway.
Mandy and Elly, “idiotic schoolchildren”, are beautifully done by  Krissi Bohn, a meticulously well-spoken Amanda in some superb fashion-plate frocks (”a beautiful advertisement for something”), and Pete Ashmore, slightly less clipped and acid than some Elyots, occasionally losing diction in moments of rage, but a very credible character even today. Their scenes together are magic – the hotel orchestra signals a wonderful change of mood at the end of Act One, where the “round the world” exchange is charged with barely repressed emotion.
Robin Kingsland makes a convincing, staid Victor, “the pompous ass” whom Amanda has just unwisely wed. His blustery sparring with Elyot especially memorable.
Mercury favourite Christine Absalom makes a meal of two quite inconsequential moments as Louise, the maid, mining every carat of comedy gold from her head-cold, her brioche and her tea-trolley. Rewarded with an old-fashioned round on her exit.
Sara Perks has designed a stunning multi-level Paris flat, with baby grand, double bed and bear-skin rug. It's concealed for the first act by diaphanous drapes suggesting the Deauville hotel – seagulls and lapping waves, lacking only a hint of ozone ruffling the organza.
A few deft cuts – the rodent Tiller Girls amongst the casualties – keep the action moving in this sparkling, hugely enjoyable revival of Coward's ageless comedy of manners.

production photograph by Robert Day

CLYBOURNE PARK

CLYBOURNE PARK
Made in Colchester at the Colchester Mercury Theatre
13.04.2016
for The Reviews Hub

Bruce Norris's thought-provoking piece is a companion to the 1959 classic A Raisin in the Sun. Back then, Lorraine Hansbury drew on her own experience to tell the story of the sale of a house in a Chicago suburb. Norris sets his “parallel play” in that very house. Its two acts explore what might have happened off stage in 1959, and, after the interval, half a century later.
Those fifty years have seen a huge shift in the ways society interacts; old prejudices are rejected, old resentments still simmer. The two acts, seven actors playing two sets of neighbours, and the changing house itself, bring hidden feelings to the fore in a sharply observed reflection on human weakness, guilt and hypocrisy. The issues remain racially charged; the reluctance to admit it persists down the years.

Daniel Buckroyd's beautifully crafted production uses a superb cast to form real characters out of what might have been stereotypes; the performances stay just the right side of caricature.

In the first act, we meet the white couple who've sold the house to the black Youngers. They move on Monday. Mark Womack's Russ seems a quiet, affably jocular guy, reading National Geographic, eating up Neapolitan ice-cream from the ice-box. Bev, his wife, sensitively played by Rebecca Manley, offers an unwanted chafing dish – the first of the play's symbols - to her black help, Francine [Gloria Onitiri]. Crass clergyman Jim [a cringingly accurate portrait by William Troughton] tries to help the couple cope with the upheaval and the lingering grief that blights their lives. Ghastly Rotarian Karl [Ben Deery] steers the discussion into increasingly troubled waters, dragging Francine and her husband Albert [Wole Sawyerr] into the murky depths: tambourines, lutefisk and skiing Negroes.
“Let's suppose the tables were turned...” says Karl. And that's just what we see in the second act. The black family now call the shots, defending the memories and the heritage that the area holds for them. Plus ça change … Kevin, comfortably man-spreading, and Lena, seated higher than the others in this awkward, increasingly “confrontational” meeting, argue persuasively against the pleas of Steve and Lindsey [Karl and his wife from 1959] who wish to raze and rebuild. Planning jargon gives way to offensive jokes. Steve proves just as insensitive as Karl; his wife [Rebecca Oldfield], deaf in the first act, pregnant throughout, is touchingly desperate.
Jonathan Fensom's set captures precisely the old-fashioned house – the windows especially eloquent – and its empty ghost. The dialogue, too, is convincingly in period, though I fancy we had problems instead of issues back then. The two halves, almost mirror images, are carefully linked: the geographical arguments, the gloves, Mr Wheeler from the grocery store, “You can't live in a principle.” Only the trunk fails to convince, either as a prop – far too clean to have lain fifty years under the crepe myrtle – or as a symbol in the chilling coda.

There is plenty to laugh at in this bitter satire, which comes garlanded with Oliviers, Tonys and a Pulitzer prize, but we chuckle uneasily as hidden depths are revealed, hypocrisy and repression brought into the open.

production photograph: Robert Day

ALADDIN

ALADDIN
A Made in Colchester Production at the Mercury Theatre
06.12.2015

for The Reviews Hub

You'll believe a mat can fly …

Aladdin's magic carpet ride was just one of many delights in this carefully crafted panto, a near-perfect cocktail of glamour, silliness and fairy-tale romance.
Under the green-eyed gaze of the dragons rampant either side of the stage, the book, by Fine Time Fontayne and director Daniel Buckroyd, leads us through the timeless tale, allowing space for big numbers, classic routines and, most important, that special rapport that the best panto performances have with the punters.
And here we have Colchester favourites Ignatius Anthony and Dale Superville, giving us, respectively a suavely evil Abanazar and a silly, sunny Wishee Washee. Both seem effortlessly to elicit an enthusiastically noisy reception from the youngsters. Working the slow Sunday matinée crowd, with grumpy banter and outrageous ad-libs, Antony Stuart-Hicks' Twanky is a dame to die for. Singing and dancing in the production numbers, hilariously handling his “sons”, and opening his heart to the front stalls. Ruby, 9, is last on today's birthday list. “Isn't this the ultimate embarrassment,” quips the widow, “Welcome to life!”.
Glenn Adamson is a cool, boy-band Aladdin, hoofing very deftly in the opening number; he even manages to bring off the sentimental Thinking Out Loud duet, complete with pas-de-deux from ensemble dancers Colin Burnicle and Gracie Lai. His lovely Jasmine, the paper bag princess who gets a girl power moment defeating Abanazar, is Sarah Moss. Tim Freeman plays the impecunious Emperor Eric Wonton; Simon Pontin and Laura Curnick are kept busy doubling as Ping and Pong, the comedy policemen, and the bearded Genie and Siri – nod to Apple's knowledge navigator – the Slave of the Ring.
The music is carefully chosen, and cleverly reworked by MD Richard Reeday to suit the panto plot. Yes, we get this year's must-have number, Uptown Funk, but also, for the older audience, Billy Joel's original Uptown Girl. Jessie J's Bang Bang follows hard on the heels of Sullivan's Three Little Maids. And the singalong – vamp till ready, Uncle Richard – is Kung Fu Fighting.
In the Frozen Himalayas [rhymes with Walton-on-the Naze] Widow Twankey, dressed inappropriately a la Carmen Miranda, does a Copacabana spoof; this is also the setting for the Yeti Ghost Routine, which this show has the confidence to do properly and in full, despite the Dame's disclaimer - “I hate this scene ...”
The laundry – featuring the patent Twankomatic with its soft soap, mangle and steam press – gets a spontaneous “Wow!” from the stalls, and the split-screen cave, the palace perspective and the colourful market work well, too. 
The Junior Chorus is given plenty to do, and rises marvellously to the challenge of some super choreography [Charlie Morgan], sporting yellow Marigolds for Walks Like Rihanna.
All too soon, the wedding walk-down and a heartfelt All I Want For Christmas Is You.
The Mercury can feel justly proud of its Made In Colchester pantomime – one of our three wishes has to be for more of the same in 2016.

production photograph: Mike Kwasniak

BULLY BOY

BULLY BOY
Made in Colchester at the Mercury Studio, Colchester

for The Reviews Hub

What is the dramatist to say about war ? 
From Shakespeare to R C Sherriff, playwrights have tried to convey the reality of combat. In our own lifetime, pieces like Not About Heroes and Our Boys have looked at the psychological aftermath of conflict.
Sandi Toksvig's powerful play, first seen in 2011, explores all these areas, while also examining the shifting relationship between two very different soldiers. Both of them have their demons, dark places in their past …
All the action is set in the heat and dust of a blind courtyard. James Catterill's substantial set [in the newly re-appointed Mercury Studio] has stones seemingly raining down behind metal grilles, basic benches. And body bags.
At first it seems as if this will be a simple investigation. A civilian boy has been killed in the Middle East. The major confronts the private, interrogates him about the incident, and the involvement of his sergeant, and his mates, the self-styled Bully Boys.
Eddie is a simple squaddie, joined up at sixteen, still only twenty years old. Oscar is older, a Falklands veteran, now a wheel-chair user. Eddie is casually racist. Stamps out the life of a spider. Oscar is more complex, sensitive and intelligent.
But then Eddie saves Oscar's life when their convoy is ambushed, and Eddie's mates are killed. Four “empty boxes” flown home to grieving families.
Dan Sherer's production brings out the differences and the common ground in the lives of these two victims of war. Sharing a bench, Oscar reading his book, Eddie playing a handheld computer game. Sharing a Scotch, climbing together to the top of Pendle Hill.
We discover a little more about Oscar's background – once desperate to be a dancer, he can no longer dance, nor even hear the music. One of the young boy's mystical appearances sees Oscar pirouetting to Pagliacci. And a little more about the boy from Burnley and the roots of his anger and his guilt.
There are some strikingly surreal moments – the relationship itself is improbable, though never feels so. And Toksvig makes sure we have plenty to think about in this 90-minute piece. The Falklands conflict has lost more lives to suicide than to death in combat. The soldiers we send across the world to fight our wars are often remarkably reluctant to fire at the enemy. And those suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder often struggle to find the support they so desperately need. [Eddie seems failed both by the Priory and by ECT ...]
The two actors who bring this odd couple to life in this intimate arena are Josh Collins, fresh out of RADA, who captures the latent humour of the lad from Lancashire, as well as his inarticulate frustration. Fiercely defending his mates and the maverick Sgt. Payne, losing his mind - “away with the hills” - as Oscar has lost the use of his legs. Andrew French is the Red Beret Major, a man with secrets of his own, in a beautifully moderated performance. Pouring himself an elegant glass of wine, collapsing into the dust with a howl of frustration. We get to know, and like, them both as their stories unfold and their uneasy relationship grows amid the banter and the questions. The boy, Omar, also of course a victim of the conflict, is shared between Benedict Cable and Austin Humphreys.
The solo cello underlines the loneliness; the words conjure graphic pictures: the aftermath of the ambush, the boy running along the roof of the moving train, his world of war forgotten for a fleeting moment.

production photograph by Robert Day

JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH

JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH

Made in Colchester at the Mercury Theatre Colchester

15.08.2015

for The Public Reviews

Trina Bramman's beautifully realised set has the giant peach stone at its core, and around it the Big Apple, suggested by trees made of lamp posts and street signs. Television screens are put out with the rubbish; an accordion lies waiting by the trash-can.

The classic Roald Dahl story is brought to vibrant life in Matthew Cullum's production for Made in Colchester, following the growing trend for children's shows at the height of summer. Bright orange t-shirts for the front of house, merchandise including butterfly wands, and in the programme, entomological notes and a scrummy recipe for Mississippi Magic Peach Cobbler.

Seven actor/musicians play all the parts, introduced by Barbara Hockaday's enthusiastic tour guide. James Le Lacheur makes a gangly, nerdy James, knobbly knees and woolly hat. The insect inhabitants of the Central Park house are Kate Adams' ladybird [trumpet], Pete Ashmore's grasshopper [violin], Josie Dunn's scary Miss Spider – best dressed of the insects – [clarinet], Matthew Rutherford's gloomy earthworm [bass] and Dale Superville's centipede, tiny shoes suspended from his coat [guitar]. The two last also play the grotesque Aunts, Sponge and Spiker.

The music [MD Richard Reeday] is sophisticated – Dale's food number a highlight, together with the mournful euphonium solo.

And the two hour show is full of bright ideas – puppetry [tiny versions of the characters to give a sense of place and scale, a voracious seagull], vox pops and reportage beamed to those same trash tvs, an underwater ballet, a duel with pots and pans [the ladybird on sound effects duty], a huge sail for the sea, umbrellas for sharks, a mirror ball storm. The story ends with a ticker-tape welcome to New York, after the audience has helped James to save the day once more by blowing the air-borne peach to a safe landing.

“Wow!” said the small child in the row behind as James's parents were eaten by a rampaging rhino. “What happened ?” was a frequent question, as well as “When can I go inside [the giant peach stone] ?”. Not possible, alas, although the children are invited down after the curtain call to inspect that splendid set at close quarters.

Not as noisily in-your-face as a panto, the show may be a little too complicated for the tinier members of the audience, especially if they're unfamiliar with the original 1961 novel. But Dahl's winning blend of magic, macabre and fantasy is well served in David Wood's inventive adaptation – an ideal treat for an August afternoon.

production photograph by Robert Day

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

NOISES OFF

NOISES OFF

Made in Colchester 

at the Mercury Theatre

05.05.2015

for The Public Reviews

Doors and trousers, boxes and sardines. The very essence of farce distilled in “Nothing On”, Robin Housemonger's classic from the early 70s.

Michael Frayn's no less acclaimed tribute to the genre shows us the action on opening night [The Grand, Weston-super-Mare], then from backstage at an Ashton-under-Lyne matinée, one month into the run, and finally, on its last legs, in Stockton-on-Tees, or was it the Old Fishmarket Theatre in Lowestoft ?

The company of eight, plus their director, struggle not only with the demands of the show – props, cues, entrances, exits – but also with their tangled private lives, the jealousies and the mutual loathings that spill out onto the stage.

Daniel Buckroyd's production skilfully builds the chaos and confusion, working up to the Act III climax that sees the curtain fall on the exhausted cast.

There is much physical fun on offer – the stairs, the doors, the telephone – but some fine character studies too. David Shelley excels as the earnest but dim Freddie, forever seeking motivation from harassed director Lloyd [Hywel Simons], who has woman trouble of his own, and would clearly rather be in Aberystwyth with Richard Crookback. Sarah Jayne Dunn looks stunning as the myopic airhead Brooke, and Louise Kempton makes a very convincing ASM, a tearful scapegoat for each fresh disaster. Dan Cohen is the company manager, who manages to go on as two different characters in the final act, and Peter Ellis plays the elusive Selsdon, a great Shakespearean reduced to character parts and driven to drink, wandering off stage to get his line.

Especially enjoyable as they become more and more fraught, Louis Tamone as Garry Lejeune, a slick farceur on stage, lost for words off, and Sara Crowe, her brave, clipped tones masking the turmoil within.

Dotty Otley, the housekeeper and mistress of the sardines, is given a fine double characterization by Louise Jameson – finding it all too much after twelve weeks on the road, she goes through the motions with bemused resignation.

The converted posset mill is wonderfully realised in Dawn Allsopp's design – an archetypal touring set, with red warmers on the tabs and light music on the tannoy. And there's a nicely spoofed Otstar Productions programme to enjoy during the scene change.

The first act, where Frayn is establishing his characters and setting up the play with the play, is a little slow, and only fitfully amusing, but there are many wonderful, laugh-aloud moments after the interval when things begin to unravel, as well as some subtler pleasures: the collective relaxation once the show is underway, the passing mention of an understudy run – surely an opportunity missed for a fourth helping of Housemonger.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

EDUCATING RITA

EDUCATING RITA

Made in Colchester at the Mercury Theatre

28.02.2015

for The Public Reviews

In our celebrity-sated, fifteen-minutes-of-fame fixated world, is education still seen as the road to personal fulfilment and life-changing cultural freedom ?

Rita first burst into Frank's study thirty-five years ago. Wisely, this first-rate revival, directed by Patrick Sandford for Made in Colchester, sets the action in the 80s, without ever making it a period piece.

Key to the drama, and to Frank's complex character, is Juliet Shillingford's superbly designed set. The kind you feel tempted to nip up on stage to explore. Shelves tower upwards, crammed with books and random bric-a-brac: here's a naked fiddle reclining on the phone books. And presiding over the action, over-sized photos of the dead white men who people Frank's literary life: an avuncular Eliot, a youthful, thoughtful, Forster. A Bronte obscured on the back of the door. And looming over it all, Rubens' Samson and Delilah, foreshadowing the neat tonsorial twist at the end of the play.

Nakedly erotic, of course, and the sexual chemistry between the student and her mentor is intriguingly explored here – the affair they never have, Innocence and Experience, the broken analogy, the Gauloises she'll never smoke – in characterizations as satisfying as any I've seen in these roles.

Samantha Robinson is the young hairdresser who “wants to understand everything”. We watch in wonder as she blossoms under the influence of literature and the student life, her foot trembling with excitement, one revelation after another lighting up her eager features. Telling costume changes reflect her journey from frustrated wife to fulfilled graduate – the little black number Frank pathetically offers her yet another blow to their failed physical relationship.

Dougal Lee is a brilliant Frank – totally convincing as the geriatric hippy, poet and piss-artist who reluctantly takes on an unknown Open University student to fund his boozing. His inebriated return from the lecture hall is masterly; gloriously, physically drunk, but vulnerable and tragic too.

The dialogue crackles along, the changing seasons suggested by falling leaves, a flurry of snow, and, more inventively, by the one-bar fire and the lighting of the many anglepoise lamps, or the fan whirring to life behind the Remington.

The production, like the set, is crammed with delightful detail – in the course of a few seconds, Rita has amended her name on the enrolment, and Frank has deliberately put down the un-put-downable Rita Mae Brown.

We leave our heroine with all her options open, and her life before her. She'll be in her sixties now, perhaps running an organic café-cum-bookshop on Lark Lane. Does she wonder about the next generation of Ritas, desperate for better songs to sing. She suspects, sadly, that the Open University would be the last place they'd look ...

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews