TRAVELLING LIGHT

TRAVELLING LIGHT

National Theatre

at the Lyttleton Theatre

29.02.12

Nicholas Wright's play is a saccharine fairy-tale; it magically imagines the birth of cinema in a shtetl in Eastern Europe [not far from Anatevka, one might suppose]. All the archetypes are in place – the interfering producer [Antony Sher genial in a beard, his broken English reminding us, as The Artist does, that early cinema had no need of words], critics, zoom, dramatic montage, and the travelling shot which gives the play its name.

A childish, innocent fantasy, which involves improbable coincidences, an infant Heifitz, a sudden impulse to take the express train at dawn, destination Hollywood. "Absurdly shmaltzy". All the more disconcerting, then, when we suddenly have an unwanted pregnancy, and an angry-young-man kitchen-sink moment in the middle of Act Two.

A beautiful set – wide and shallow – which ingeniously becomes a studio lot in a promising device which is not fully developed. And everything one would expect of a Hytner show, save only the quality of the text itself. Loads of performances to match the great Sher – Damien Molony as young cineaste Motl, with Paul Jesson moving as his older self, rebranded as Maurice Montgomery. Lauren O'Neil was excellent as his Trilby, the silent movie star he leaves behind in the shtetl.

Some nice use of film footage, too, whether the early documentary stuff or the later feature film, its plot collectively brainstormed in one of the play's stronger scenes. But this cheesy melodrama could hardly be more far-fetched than Wright's play: an unlikely tribute to the birth of the movies and the diaspora that provided their creative force.

from my seat at the back of the stalls, opening Act II

ABSENT FRIENDS

ABSENT FRIENDS

at the Mercury Theatre, Colchester

27.02.2012

for The Public Reviews

Ayckbourn's dark, tragical farce continues to draw audiences to its uneasy social comedy.

The Mercury's in-house production sets the action firmly in the 70s – an incredibly evocative Foxton set, almost palatial ["now we know where the money's going..."], tastefully done out in orange and brown, with a bar area, a kitchen beyond, and even the back garden beyond that. It's a home that Mike Leigh's estate agent Laurence [Abigail's Party] would have loved to sell, and with which he and Beverly would feel very comfortable.

Not that there's much comfort in this tea party. Colin, the guest of honour, has lost his fiancée in a drowning accident, and five people, none of whom seem very fond of him, invite him over from a sense of duty.

The irony of the piece is that Colin's happiness, despite his loss, is the obverse of their marital difficulties, the familiar Ayckbourn cocktail of infidelity and lack of understanding.

At first, some of the characters seem less "right" than the lounge and the music. But as the excellent ensemble work brings out their hidden failings and frustrations, we get to know them better, and come to accept the readings the actors give.

No qualms at all about Ben Livingstone's Colin. He catches to perfection the social, and physical, awkwardness of the man, his annoying sincerity and his desperate worship of the late Carol. And he remains, to the last, impervious to the emotional maelstrom to which he brings his fond memories and his albums of snaps. Equally impressive is Gina Isaac's Marge: nervy, uptight, outraged, dispensing TLC over the phone to her overweight valetudinarian Gordon [another absent friend], mopping up the spills, her body language painfully well observed.

Our hosts, owners of the spider plant and the hock glasses, are played by Ignatius Anthony as the awful Paul – moustache, track suit, a bully and a bastard. He is particularly strong in his final breakdown. A nice unravelling, too, from Amanda Haberland as his wife Diana: the cream jug moment, of course, but also her Mountie speech, which manages to be moving, heart-rendingly sad, and funny at the same time.

David Tarkenter's John, restless, with an aversion to any mention of death, nervously scoffing sandwiches, and Clare Humphrey's knowing Evelyn, complete a very strong cast.

Gari Jones's production is outstanding in its handling of the numbing awkwardness of the situation – the players rigid with mortification, or moving clumsily in a pussyfooting ballet of embarrassment. Sometimes he has his characters shouting and pointing lines where British suburban understatement might be more appropriate, but the silences are poignantly eloquent, and tiny moments of social observation [like the arguing over 20p] are wonderfully done.

And Seasons in the Sun – a hit the very same year as Ayckbourn's play, if I recall – is an inspired choice for the final tableau of despair before the curtain call.

production photo: Robert Day

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER

National Theatre

at the Olivier Theatre

26.02.12

Goldsmith's classic comedy is given a glorious revival in Jamie Lloyd's assured production at the Olivier. In a superb, solid setting [Designer, Mark Thompson] lit by candles and firelight, the Mistakes of a Night unfold faultlessly and hilariously.

The pace is helped by lively, wordless music sung by a large ensemble of servants, and by the Olivier stage, which has the Inn and the Hardcastle House as two sides of the coin, and both vanishing in a wonderful moment to reveal the misty, wooded garden.

Duped and deluded, Marlow and Hastings arrive at the rustic house. Harry Hadden-Paton is physically impressive as Marlow, tongue-tied with his intended, but something of an animal with the "barmaid" [Katherine Kelly]. John Heffernan's Hastings is awkward, soft-hearted and constantly funny as he woos his Constance [Cush Jumbo], succeeding only with the connivance of David Fynn's amiable, free-spirited Lumpkin. He was also very touching in his moment of "disappointment and despair".

The Hardcastles are uproariously done by Steve Pemberton and Sophie Thompson; Mrs H is superb as she apes what she supposes London speech. Like everyone else in a marvellous cast, they are encouraged to mug their asides, push their gags to the back of the circle. "This is over-acting, young gentleman," says Hardcastle to his prospective son-in-law, and it's hard not to agree. But jolly good fun, an endlessly entertaining production which remains true to the original while catering to modern tastes in comedy.

OTHELLO / MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

OTHELLO / MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

So It Goes at the Etcetera Theatre, Camden Town

22.02.2012

for The Public Reviews

Desdemona [Emily Swatton] sleeps in her wedding sheets, motionless on the black floor. No sooner does she stir than the Moor has his hands around her throat; she struggles a little, and is still once more.

Brabantio's dream, no doubt, for though this Othello is heavily cut, we must surely see all the workings of jealousy.

Director Douglas Baker imagines Venice in a vaguely Victorian world, with rapiers, a hip flask, a couple of modest medals on Othello's chest.

The style is bold, almost guignol at times, though the soliloquies, in this tiny space, are very effective, allowing an almost televisual intimacy, with the smallest facial expression finding telling eloquence.

Andy Seaman's Moor is not as rough, not as exotic, as some, very much a perfect gentleman until maddened by jealous rage. But he did find some delightful subtleties in the monster. His Iago [an impressive Philip Nightingale] was a shifty, sinister figure, a subtle villain superbly suggested in voice and manner. Their first “green-eyed monster” scene was excellently done. And the valiant Cassio, Fergal Philips, with his dashing good looks and practised swash-buckling, did a wonderful drunk scene. Other striking moments were the erotically-charged handing over of the fatal napkin, and poor Barbary's song as Emilia [Adriana Maestranzi] gently helps Desdemona undress for her bed. And then we're back to the nightmare where we came in, and the piece ends with “It is too late – put out the light, and then put out the light.”

No programme or cast list of any kind was provided, so one wondered which of these fine actors would appear in Messina after the interval. In the event, just one, Paul Norton making a pair of wronged fathers with a down-to-earth Leonato.

This much abridged Much Ado was set in the 40s, perhaps, opening with the girls sitting in the sunshine, shelling peas. Zoe Thomas-Webb gave us a fast-paced, warm production, often moving in its insights into the characters.

Our Beatrice [Eva Lea] was young, flirty, her exchanges with Benedick almost teenage banter. It was noticeable that she couldn't take her eyes off him the moment he came back from the wars. He proved a sensible Benedick, playing the reluctant lover with a light touch. The cast of nine included Sophie Marlowe's icy, elegant Julia [standing in for Don John], Michael Cusick's dapper Claudio and a lovely Margaret [Amy Butterworth], willing a happy ending, but racked with guilt, too, almost confessing her wrongdoing to Benedick [which, had she done so, might have shortened the play still further]. As it was, we missed the coda where Don John's capture is reported, just as in Othello we were spared the bloodletting and the revenge which follows Desdemona's murder. And I'm sure no-one missed Dogberry and company, some of the unfunniest comic turns in the canon, and that's saying something. We did have a splendid double gulling [Benedick behind his Picturegoer Film Weekly, Beatrice behind a washing line], and there were many deft touches in this piece too – "Kill Claudio" half smothered in an embrace, a cheeky look back from Leonato as he sets up Hero's second wedding [Sarah Barker the slandered virgin], contrasting with his inability to look back at her when he drags her off in shame after her public humiliation.

Both pieces exhibited admirable clarity of text, and a realistic staging which went straight to the heart and the soul of the drama. Etcetera Theatre is a modest black box, not very soundproof, over the Oxford Arms on busy Camden High Street. But, as Shakespeare knew, there can be a profitable symbiosis between pub landlord and players in search of a stage. And I'm sure he would have been impressed to see such a successful double bill, scarce more than two hours' traffic the pair !

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

DOCKLANDS SINFONIA

DOCKLANDS SINFONIA

M&G Concert at the Civic Theatre

19.02.12

The Docklands Sinfonia is one of the UK's youngest orchestras: founded less than three years ago, it has players with an average age of 24.

Last Sunday they came to the Civic for the first time, bringing a very accessible programme of British music from the last century.

At the dramatic heart of the evening, Jeffery Wilson's Timpani Concerto of 1978. Virtuosic, melodic, even choreographic, it was given an animated performance by Scott Wilson and the Sinfonia, under the zestful direction of Spencer Down.

We began just upstream from the Sinfonia's Limehouse home, in the London painted by Eric Coates: Covent Garden, Westminster, and Knightsbridge, played very much as I imagine Coates the conductor would have liked it – brisk and broad-brushed.

Before the interval, Delius's romantic stroll to the pub, and after it, Elgar's Enigma Variations. A more generous acoustic would have lent a bloom to the strings, but it was good to hear the detail in, for instance, the skittering violins and the timpani, the energetic Fifth Variation, and the mighty Ninth. And the final Variation [the composer himself] was given a superbly judged closing chord.

We even had time for a very British lollipop – Fritz Spiegel's Radio Four Theme.