Cut
to the Chase at the Queen's Theatre, Hornchurch
14.04.2014
A
jazz trio in the foyer, and in the road outside, a stunning
collection of vintage automobiles to prepare us for the drama within.
In
those golden Twenties before the crash and the depression, Jay Gatsby
and his charmed circle live out the decadent hedonistic dream in his
waterside mansion.
Cut
to the Chase are no slouches when it comes to twentieth century
classics, and this is a seriously stylish production of what might
seem a rather superficial adaptation of a complex many-layered
masterpiece. The novel relies on the onlooker/narrator Nick Carraway,
sensitively played here by Callum Hughes, and it is through his eyes
that we see much of the tragedy unfold. And it is he who reads Scott
Fitzgerald's handwritten envoi
at the end.
Simon
Jessop is a familiar face at the Queen's, but this is his first show
as director, and he has certainly seized the opportunity with both
hands.
In
a bold meta-theatrical prologue, he shows us an empty rehearsal
space, bare bricks off-white-washed, fire hose, doors, chairs and
staircase all in the same hue. The company wander in, bearing musical
instruments and doughnuts, eight characters in search of a
read-through.
Introductions
over, the “director” gives them a pep talk, demanding of them
“conviction and high style”. And boy, do they deliver. Two
characters step into the central circle, and the scripts are
discarded as we move seamlessly onto that “slender, riotous
island”.
Jessop's
vision is never realistic, and rarely glamorous. This is Gatsby as
Arthur Miller might have told it, drilling down to the raw, deformed
emotions at the heart of the piece. The staging is striking: the
silent fireworks, the Old Metropole, the lighthouse duologue, the
death of Myrtle, Daisy's letter monologue, the “strange enchanted
boy” martyred in his swimming pool. The first meeting of Gatsby and
Daisy is superbly choreographed as a quartet. There is a see-through
cupboard under the stairs for the bedroom scene and the
Metropole-dancing.
There
is much music, but no production numbers. Instead these
actor/musicians provide underscoring, quick cues and snatches of
song. Boulevard of Broken Dreams, What Is This Thing Called Love, but
also, very effectively, unexpected arrangements of All Saints and
Justin Timberlake.
Sam
Kordbacheh is an elegant, statuesque Gatsby, enigmatic and
unemotional, save for the powerful moment when he loses his temper
with Sean Needham's racist asshole Tom Buchanan. Georgina Field gives
a wonderfully inebriated Myrtle; Sam Pay is incredibly moving as her
wronged husband. The shallow, self-absorbed Daisy is beautifully
portrayed by Ellie Rose Boswell, and Alison Thea-Skot is the
emancipated golfer Jordan Baker. A great character turn from Stuart
Organ as the ageing mobster Meyer Wolfsheim, with his cuff buttons
made of human molars.
The
lighting is atmospheric; back projection and film are sparingly but
tellingly used. And, at the end, silent movie credits not only for
the actor/musicians but for every member of this amazing Queen's
Theatre company.
production photograph: Nobby Clark
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