SPRING CONCERT

SPRING CONCERT

King Edward VI School

10.03.16

KEGS' Spring Concert was ambitious, accessible and very enjoyable.
Kicking off with Shostakovich's flamboyant Festive Overture. For what is basically a chamber orchestra [just ten fiddles] they made a splendid noise – frisky woodwind and fortissimo brass.
Salon forces are just what you need for Saint-Saens Carnival of the Animals, giving some excellent young soloists a chance to shine: clarinet cuckoo, xylophone fossils, strings for asses, double bass for the arthritic elephant. The serene swan, upstream here on the leader's violin, and the piano duet practising scales ready for their cameo in the next work, another of Saint-Saens greatest hits, the Organ Symphony, with William Foster the accomplished soloist at the console. All three orchestral showpieces conducted by Tim Worrall.
Becky Chant took the baton for Fauré's much-loved Requiem, sounding fresh and sincere, with an open tone from the trebles and some dramatic dynamics. No guest soloists here – like the harp and the organ, all members of the Grammar School community. After a beautiful O Domine – women's voices to the fore, with lower strings – the Hostias from Joseph Clark, and a powerful Libera Me from Tom Mitty. The treble soloist in the Pie Jesu was the confident, pure-toned Mark Godley. And the closing In Paradisum had a beautifully controlled, movingly sustained final “Requiem”.

TERRY PRATCHETT'S MORT

TERRY PRATCHETT'S MORT

Chelmsford Theatre Workshop at The Old Court

09.03.16

Mort is the eighth of the Pratchett oeuvre to grace the Old Court stage. Giving real playwrights like Ayckbourn and Shakespeare a run for their money.
Stephen Briggs' respectful adaptation uses narration sparingly; he shoe-horns in all the familiar characters and most of the best jokes. The tone is set before the show, with the catchy, bawdy Wizard's Staff song, attributed to Nanny Ogg.
Lynn Foster, who directs, assisted by Mark Preston and Sally Ransom, deploys her huge, richly costumed cast with skill: processions, carnival, time travel.
Robin Winder's set allows for dramatic entrances, as well as opening out to reveal a perspective view of Death's library, shelf after shelf of biographies and hourglasses.
The disc-world cast is led by Michael McDonagh as the hopeless apprentice of the title, with Richard James as his master, the cadaverous, sepulchral Grim Reaper. On the distaff side, Jennifer Burchett's gothic “I shall call you Boy” Ysabell, and Natalie Patuzzo's nubile Princess.
What laughs there are tend to go to those actors who aren't afraid to send it all up a bit – Mark Preston's Rincewind, Peter Jeary's Cutwell, Jim Crozier, outstanding as the old retainer Albert, who turns out to be none other than Alberto Malich - you know, the onlie begetter of the Unseen University. And not forgetting the scenes stolen by Robin Winder as Cyrus, a merrily myopic High Priest, and, best of all, a stoical door knocker.

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY
London Classic Theatre at the Civic Theatre, Chelmsford
08.03.2016
for The Reviews Hub

This was Pinter's second full-length play. Not a success in its day; still unsettling and confusing more than half a century on.
But it has become a classic, worthy of inclusion in London Classic Theatre's pantheon.
Michael Cabot's new production is a taut, intelligent reading of the text, respectful of the dark mood behind even the most trivial interchange. Set on a raised platform, reminiscent of a boxing ring, not perhaps seen to best advantage behind the Civic's proscenium. It's a minimalist, realistic set by Bek Palmer, with a suggestion of skeletons beneath the floorboards. A standard lamp, a hatstand, a dark oak dresser.
Sensitively timed dialogue brings out the complex, twisted relationships between these enigmatic characters. Beginning with a pause. Domestic breakfast, mind games with the sinister strangers.
A fine cast, led by Cheryl Kennedy's frustrated, fussy, flaky Meg, hinting at a more glamorous past behind the slovenly landlady in fluffy slippers and head-scarf. The belle of the ball, she recalls at the end.
The other woman who ventures within these drab walls is the cipher Lulu (Imogen Wilde), an unexplained visitor who seems to be a victim of Stanley's advances at the ghastly party of the title, and Goldberg's attentions later that night.
Gareth Bennett-Ryan is the weak, spoiled loner Stanley, cosseted by Meg (the little boy she'd much rather have, perhaps), deliberately destroyed by the manipulative Goldberg and McCann in one of the strongest scenes – Pinter's use of language as a weapon never bettered. Broken by the two intruders whose coming upsets him from the start, he ends up a catatonic wreck, his hands jerking and twitching as if he still had his toy drum, Meg's musical gift for his birthday.
Jonathan Ashley is all smooth menace as the laid-back Goldberg, with Declan Rodgers as the solid, silent McCann – muscular torso, red braces. Both strikingly still in contrast to their victim's nervous movement. Like Ben and Gus in The Dumb Waiter, they are a double act sent to do a job.
Absent from the party is Meg's old man, the lumpen deck-chair attendant Petey, seemingly uninterested in anything beyond the morning paper and his night out with the lads from the chess club. He's played with genial indifference by Ged McKenna.
The piece is an unsettling blend of sitcom and the theatres of the absurd and of cruelty. 
A more intimate space might draw us in more successfully to the banal, claustrophobic world of the seaside boarding house – if that's where we are. But this stylish production deftly lays bare the frightening forces behind the stucco façade – a welcome reminder of one of 20th century's most accomplished British works for the stage.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
at the Queen's Theatre, Hornchurch
07.03.2016
for The Reviews Hub

Celebrations at the Queen's in Hornchurch. Shakespeare is celebrated, 400 after his death. A new Artistic Director is welcomed to the Billet Lane theatre, and, put out more flags, World War II is over, and Claudio and his chums come victorious home to start Much Ado About Nothing.
It's a warm, witty production, spoken with admirable clarity and acted with energy and passion.
Hattie Ladbury makes a wonderful Beatrice. She's had a good war, by the look of her when she walks on for the first time with a confident swagger in mechanic's overalls. “If I were a man ...”. Lanky, gauche at times, she excels in the war of wits with Benedick, a glance, an inflection will suffice to let us read her mind and share her thoughts. Thomas Padden's Benedick is less obviously charismatic. Balding, bearded at first, clean-shaven with civet for the wooing, he manages the marriage soliloquy with style, switching from introspection to audience engagement in a moment.
The lovers are backed by a very strong company, almost all of them new faces at the Queen's.
Mark Jax's grizzled Leonato, carousing like Sir Toby at Claudio's stag do, quite undone by grief at the shaming of his daughter Hero. She's engagingly played by Amber James, who dashes round to double the Sexton and a member of the Watch. More versatility from  Pascale Burgess: the treacherous Margaret – a lovely moment in the boudoir dreaming of gowns “laced with silver, set with pearls” - and a hilarious Warwickshire Dogberry, all silly swagger and malapropisms. The Watch work hard, in their gaberdine capes, with Verges [Jamie Bradley] acting out the briefing, but the humour of their scenes, as so often, is largely elusive.
Liam Bergin is the sinister Don John, the “canker in the hedge”, lurking and looking on, dressed in black “I cannot hide what I am ...” – Mosley, are we meant to think ? - and Sam Pay, a Billet Lane regular under the old regime, is an excellent Borachio, drunkenly sharing his secret with the front stalls, and Ursula, here upgraded to Leonato's sister, is strongly characterized by Eliza Hunt. A bluff, military Don Pedro from Nigel Hastings, and a clean-cut Tyneside Claudio from James Siggens, making a very promising professional début in this production. Worth wearing a microphone throughout for his superb Sigh No More trio, with Benedick clowning in the background. A moment to treasure.
The music generally – Julian Littman – was powerfully evocative of the period – Johnny Comes Marching Home for the opening scene, and for the dance at the close, Al Jolson's You Made Me Love You.
Good to see the involvement of a community chorus – standing at the door of the church, and of Leonato's monument, hanging the bunting, putting away the garlanded wedding chairs before the door slams and we are in the cells with the malefactor.
The setting – a country house garden, with the house and outbuildings behind, is easily and ingeniously transformed into church, vault and the rest. The central gulling scenes use the space brilliantly, hedges, stepladder, picnic rug all pressed into service, and Beatrice the lapwing popping up like a jack-in-the-box.
A big-hearted, accessible production of a favourite Shakespeare: straightforward enough to engage the newcomer, inventive enough to keep the Bard buff entertained.

production photo: Mark Sepple

TELL ME ON A SUNDAY

TELL ME ON A SUNDAY
at the Civic Theatre, Chelmsford
06.03.2016
for The Reviews Hub

The nation's favourite Nancy, Jodie Prenger, brings her considerable vocal and dramatic talents to the classic Andrew Lloyd Webber song cycle, first developed in the late seventies, and appearing in many guises since, including the successful West End double bill Song and Dance.
Paul Foster's staging makes the show very much a drama, a series of monologues tracking British emigrant Emma as she tries to make it in the States, writing home to her mum about the men in her life and her efforts to get that elusive Green Card.
The twenty-five numbers seem to follow the playlist of the 2010 tour, though Unexpected Song is kept for the final encore in the second half of the evening.
The setting is simple: a model Manhattan skyline obscures Peter McCarthy's excellent little orchestra. In front of it, seventies furniture and props suggesting her New York apartment.
Prenger inhabits the character very convincingly – her accent switches from Manhattan to Mancunian as she writes her letters home to Mum, her costume changes reflect her switchback love life. - “Why are all affairs so unfair ?”. Her bitchy friends and her boyfriends – too old, too young, too married – are unseen but very present in a tightly clutched cushion, an empty easy chair.
Her last, tearful missive is followed by a reprise of Take That Look Off Your Face and the ultimately life-affirming Dreams Never Run On Time.
An impressively crafted hour of musical theatre, and if not all the songs are as memorable as the title number, they are all performed with style and emotional investment, Don Black's lyrics crystal clear to the last word.
How to follow Tell Me On A Sunday ?  No Wayne Sleep Variations, alas, but “more words and music” from Miss Prenger, with McCarthy at the grand piano. Secret Love to start – her last tour out of The Watermill was Calamity Jane – before “Ask Me On A Sunday”, with questions from the capacity crowd. “How do you remember all the lyrics ?” (She writes them out on a notepad.) “Will you be working with Barrowman again ?” (Nothing planned, alas.) “What got you into musical theatre ?” (Summer shows, pubs and clubs in her native Blackpool.)
Then, in a lovely gesture, she brings on Jodie Beth Meyer, who's touring with the six-foot skyscrapers and the band as Prenger's understudy, and they duet memorably in Another Suitcase, Another Hall, before the show closes with Unexpected Song.

production photograph by Tristram Kenton