STEEL MAGNOLIAS

STEEL MAGNOLIAS

at the Queen's Theatre Hornchurch

21.09.2015

for The Public Reviews

Robert Harling's classic tragicomedy, set in a Southern “beauty shop”, is cleverly constructed for maximum effect. Joy and despair, tears and laughter, with the one-liners, ripostes and put-downs equitably shared amongst the six ladies.

The Queen's do it proud. There's “pink plonk” for the interval, or an exclusive Pink Magnolia cocktail, and, on opening night at least, five dancers in jeans and check shirts for the wedding of Shelby and Jackson.

A superb stage design too [Dinah England], with a magnificent magnolia tree beyond the salon – see its petals fall, replaced by fairy lights as April turns to December. There's a practical pink basin, a proper hood dryer, a chicken door-stop and plastic bug blinds rippling in the breeze.

Liz Marsh's production manages the moods and keeps the pace lively. Some effective grouping, too, with the five ladies turning their curiosity onto newbie Annelle, or gathering eagerly round the baby photo. Or M'Lynn sitting quietly apart as the news of her selfless devotion to her daughter breaks. The salon falls still as Shelby's final struggle is recalled, before Clairee breaks the mood with a desperate joke.

Truvy's is as much a community support group as a hairdresser's, and the sense of strong, caring women coping with all that life throws at them is at the heart of the production.

Six excellent actors inhabit their roles: Queen's regular Sarah Mahony is Truvy, with bold eye-shadow and a restless energy, Lucy Wells her prayerful new apprentice. Shelby's warm, bubbly personality is beautifully suggested by Gemma Salter's nuanced performance; Claire Storey, as her mother, encompasses a huge emotional range, fussing and fretting at the beginning, raging at the unfairness of fate at the end. Their heart-to-heart in the gloom is the poignant turning point of the drama.

The two older ladies are nicely contrasted – Gilian Cally's wiry Ouiser, ankle socks and galoshes, and Clairee, former first lady of the town, glossily groomed, with racy red shoes. She's played to perfection by Tina Gray, who first appeared at the Queen's in 1971. Her every laugh is immaculately timed, her every word clearly audible. Elsewhere the accents – impressively authentic – and the wide stage meant that some lines were lost.

A lively, warm-hearted version of a favourite play, firmly set in “too colourful for words” 1980s Louisiana, but universal in its sympathetic portrayal of six remarkable women, sharing the good times and the bad in the humid intimacy of the beauty parlour.

photograph: Mark Sepple

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

ROLL OVER BEETHOVEN

ROLL OVER BEETHOVEN

at the Queen's Theatre Hornchurch

26.08.2015

for The Public Reviews

Can't get to see Sherlock's Sweet Prince ? Here's Hornchurch's home-grown Johnny Hamlet in a real-deal rock-and-roll re-working of Shakespeare. And while Cumberbatch has only Nat King Cole on his phonograph, the Queen's offers a whole juke-box full of familiar sounds from the Fifties, raucously filling the gap between skiffle and the Mersey beat.

Bob Eaton's audaciously imagined version transfers the action to England in the monochrome 1950s – a very atmospheric opening scene – variously in Denmark Street [London's Tin Pan Alley], a grim Clacton holiday camp, and the Elsinor Ballroom. The hits of the day are re-packaged as clever pastiche. And we have a lovely happy ending, the duel scuppered by a flick-knife comb, in which Gertie and Claud [Antony Reed], Hamlet and Ophelia, not to mention those lovely boys Larry and [Waltzer] Horace [Daniel Healey], all face a bright harmonious future.

Matt Devitt's classy production gives the rather patchy piece a tremendous world première, in a stark set by Rodney Ford – Escher battlements in silhouette, on closer inspection a skeletal street-scene façade. The music, under Ben Goddard, is superbly realised, with the actor-musicians impressively recreating the styles and the sounds of sixty years ago. The Ghost on washboard, Hamlet's uncle on muted trumpet, sax duos from his mother and his girl, and so on.

The most successful numbers, perhaps, are the social comment songs: Smoke Gets Everywhere, and the Great Pretenders, evoking an age when everyone smoked, and “queers” – including the helpfully named Stephen Spender – stayed firmly in the closet. Elsewhere the lyrics, like the cod blank verse, are often lame and clunky, or perhaps deliberately naff: “I'll never forget tonight / You gave us a helluva fright.” “My mind is out of joint and that's a fact / I'll be a nutter by the second act.” And the Ghost Train number is ill-conceived and embarrassingly staged.

Excellent performances largely paper over the cracks though, not least Cameron Jones's energetic Hamlet – his Elvis number, All Mucked Up [bowdlerised until the very last repeat] is brilliantly done. The Ghost of Hamlet's Father is done with relish by Fred Broom. He has a lot to do here, appearing, as in Britten's Death in Venice [Ben another unlikely name check], in various disguises, waiter, Butlin's redcoat ... Stephen Markwick, often heard here as MD, shows comic potential as the stick-in-the-mud Henry Polonius.

Outstanding work from the two women: Sarah Mahony's Gertie delivers a superb Love and Understanding, and newcomer Lucy Wells is a striking Ophelia with a Jayne Mansfield figure. It is Ophelia who has the suicidal thoughts here, her Freudian ocean dream explored in the nicely conceived Sea of Troubles. Her Heartbreak Hotel [A Camp Called Misery], duetting with Jones, is strongly characterized, too. Another new face, Tom Sowinski, is the posh music student Larry, who finds freedom with Waltzer in the streets of Soho.

Roll Over Beethoven is the latest in a fine Hornchurch tradition of fun, populist re-workings of the Shakespeare canon. And, whether or not you're familiar with the five-act original, it provides an enjoyable trip back to the era of Johnny Remember Me, culminating in a brilliant rock-style Beethoven's Ninth, with Broom as the toe-tapping statue of Ludwig Van.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

THE RIVALS

A Mercury Theatre Company Production at the Mercury, Colchester

till Saturday 12 March

for The Public Reviews

Why not treat Sheridan to what Shakespeare has been accustomed to for years, now ? A director-led, concept-driven production to point up the play's relevance to our times.

So this was Gari Jones's Rivals, done as in-your-face Burlesque, with hints of the circus and the catwalk. “Garish, gaudy, cheap and obscene,” as poor Fag sings from the Tiger Lillies' songbook at the top of the show.

Amy Yardley's design was a striking blend of glitzy glamour and almost industrial grimness: the black walls, floor, chairs, setting off the colourful costumes, which were a stylish gallimaufry of cabaret, punk, New Romantic, and, of course Eighteenth Century Bath.

The production boasted a first-rate cast, including many familiar repertory faces. The two major character roles were played by Christine Absalom, as a vulgar but vulnerable Mrs Malaprop, and Ignatius Anthony as a barnstorming, bluff and ruddy Sir Anthony. Both brilliantly characterized, not missing a nuance in this comedy of manners. Marshall Griffin was a fiery Sir Lucius, and I particularly enjoyed Graeme Brookes's Brummy Bob Acres, a cowardly country boy out of his depth in society. Clare Humphrey played a lippy Lucy the maid, with a voice like a foghorn.

Lydia Languish, longing for a romantic elopement, was beautifully done by Katherine Manners, like a delicate doll in her palest pink dress; her Captain Jack was Will Norris – his energetic performance kept the intrigue moving. The other pair of lovers were Nadia Morgan's Julia and her Faulkland, played with subtle comedy and some pathos by David Tarkenter.

Roger Delves-Broughton caught the style nicely as the servant Fag – almost an Auguste in this circus.

Hard to describe the overall effect of the production. A Fellini dream, maybe, with more than a little Luhrmann. I wasn't entirely persuaded by the programme note. The songs – Avarice, Send in the Clowns [!] - were often a distraction, and of course made a long show even longer. Though I did think the two numbers either side of the interval – Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart, and Evelyn Evelyn's pastiche Have You Seen My Sister – worked real show-business magic.

I felt somewhat battered by the end – the bright lights, the top—of-the-voice delivery. And it was noticeable that most of the laughs came in the more traditional moments when Sheridan was left to speak for himself.

But nobody walked out, much less threw apples. The applause at the end was enthusiastic. This is a young man's piece, after all, and I hope audiences of all ages will find it a refreshing re-working of an old favourite. We are fortunate to have a regional stage ready to take risks with a production which, like it or not, makes superb use of limited resources, and showcases the best of this enterprising company.


this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

Headlong Theatre and the Nuffield Southampton, in association with Hull Truck at the New Wolsey Theatre, Ipswich

for The Public Reviews

The Hollywood “Dream” is not a new idea. Shakespeare's Globe tour a year or two back had Quince and Bottom in the Directors' Chairs. This time, in a brilliantly sustained conceit, it's Robin P Goodfellow, mischievously manipulating the mortals in an affectionate look at the star-studded Sixties in tinsel town.

Athens is a painted backdrop, and also the name of the production company. The mechanicals, shorn of their traditional trades, are the crew, and Oberon and Titania [doubling, as so often, Theseus and Hippolyta] were gods of the silver screen, cheekily channelling the great Burton and Taylor.

Natalie Abrahami's production was crammed with clever touches – the clapper-board cranny, the child-like fairies and the Red Indian Boy, the cable wood, and especially the music – Casta Diva on the Dansette, On the Roof and A Summer Place for Titania's backstage bower. Thanks to some ingenious video, we actually saw the main title, and some revealing rushes and out-takes.

A near faultless cast of ten covered all the characters, though poor old Quince [David Shaw-Parker] had to be the voice of Wall, Moon and Lion in Pyramus and Thisbe, since Starveling [Wardrobe Assistant] and the rest were nowhere to be seen. The result was predictably hilarious, with Michael Dylan's Flute a splendid Thisbe - “How will I live ?” she ad libs, stealing Hippolyta's line from lost blockbuster “Where The Wild Thyme Blows”. Christopher Logan was a memorable Bottom, flouncing and slightly fey, with more than a hint of dark depths below the surface.

The lovers were given wonderful fights and chases, even a balcony scene – Faye Castelow especially fine as a feisty Hermia. Justin Avoth's Oberon was beautifully spoken – elsewhere the approximate accents were sometimes a distraction. Not so for Sandy Grierson's superb Puck. Perched on his chair, with notebook and pipe [lots of smoking in this show], he seemed to be planning his mischief, and his cynical, caustic comments caught the mood exactly.

There was no shortage of magic, mayhem or mirth in this two-hour comedy. Even the fairies, with their cowboy outfits, were strangely effective. But, as the commendably informative programme points out, the play is on the National Curriculum, and the half-term matinée I saw was well attended by students of all ages. And I did wonder if this imaginative interpretation, “more strange than true” perhaps, might be a tad confusing for first-time wanderers in the wood near Athens.

Photos: Keith Pattison

JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 

the rock ‘n’ roll panto

By Peter Rowe and Alan Ellis

The New Wolsey Theatre, Ipswich

for The Public Reviews

“Hello, Dolly!” we dutifully yelled, happy to humour the larger-than-life man in a frock.

This time it's Jack and the Beanstalk at the Wolsey in Ipswich, done in their unique rock'n'roll style, with limited forces but unlimited panache. There were beanstalks either side the theatre door, tendrils round the tea-bar, and a lovely set [Mark Walters, who also designed the costumes], with diminishing arches, folding flaps to change the scene, and most of the space for the band and the cabaret-style choreography.

No kids on stage, but muppetish livestock chorus. No sing-song, but hand-clapping, foot-stomping, toe-tapping rock classics, and a chance to bop in the aisles after the final walk-down.

A phenomenal team of ten to play all the parts, and all the instruments too. Shirley Darroch was excellent as ever as the saucy sprite, Fairy Aubergine, who told us the plot, in rhyme, at the top and the tail of the show and waved her magic leek to ensure that virtue was triumphant. Sean Kingsley was Fleshcreep, her deadly rival, whooshing up from the stage left trap, gleefully wicked, with an amazing athletic number to establish his evil credentials.

The Dame, pointing his gags with a deadly delivery and keeping up a constant commentary, was a tour-de-force from Will Kenning. He managed to bring a breezy, Pythonesque freshness to the role, whilst respecting most of the traditions. Most of his time in the spotlight came at the start; after a particularly punishing routine, he was straight over to join Fleshcreep on keyboards – he also played a mean trombone in the Giant's backing band.

That's the USP of these Wolsey shows – the actor/musicians move democratically from solo to backing, vocal to sax, at the drop of a hat, exemplified in the It Takes Two finale. Liz Singleton, in her first ever panto, [she graduated from the Guildhall this year] as Jill, with David Hunter [ex Manchester band 'Reemer'] as her Jack – duetted in front, with the other eight all on instruments behind them.

When it's done as well as this, it seems the only way to tackle panto in a recession – if it catches on there'll be pits closing all over the country...

The musical numbers were all carefully chosen, and belted out with unflagging energy [MD was Ben Goddard]. We Will Rock You for Adebayo Bolaji's glam rock Giant, and my favourite, Always Something There To Remind Me, as the Durdens bid farewell to their incontinent cow – plenty of poo jokes in this script from Alan Ellis and director Peter Rowe ! Bessie the Cow was outstanding, as was Nicola Bryan's powerhouse performance as Gemima, the Giant's tiny wife. Kenny Davies made an engaging Silly Billy Bungalow, and the posh Squire Snuffbox was a tireless Harry Myers. Jared Ashe, axe-man extraordinaire, completed a brilliant company.

The audience loved every rocking minute, the dancing beanstalk, the platform shoes, the silly wigs. Amongst the critics and the celebrities, if Dame Dolly's guest list is gospel, Javier and David all the way from Pamplona. And Michael, from Stowmarket, who foolishly chose a front row seat where he caught Kenning's eagle eye for a stooge ...


photograph: Mike Kwasniak

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

ALADDIN
Queen's Theatre Hornchurch
06.12.10
Cut to the Chase company


for The Public Reviews
photograph by Nobby Clark


Fresh as the paint on old Peking, Bob Carlton's fun-packed family panto was chock-full of charm and chutzpah; even by the third performance it looked slick and secure, with all the routines well-oiled. Impressively, this is an entirely home-made, in-house production, with the actor-musicians of Cut to the Chase, children from local schools, and costumes and sets created over the year by their own wardrobe, workshop, scenic art and stage management departments.


Nicholas Pegg's brand new book [his twelfth for the Queen's] ticked all the boxes, but there was style, too, with sophisticated wordplay for those quick enough to catch it. The “sesame” substitutes just one example. Carol Sloman's music covered all the panto genres, from sloppy romance through sing-along nonsense to the Formby tribute Families Are Fun, with Wishee on his little ukulele.


No names or nonentities here, just the incredibly versatile resident company, acting, singing and playing in the pit, obviously enjoying their annual treat in pantoland. None more than classy “classical actor” Stuart Organ, relishing every syllable of the lively, literate script as Abanazer, popping up stage left in a cloud of smoke. I loved Natasha Moore as the slave of the ring, having a Barking moment before she realised where she was. Coalition cuts to thank, perhaps, that she was also a radiant Princess Jasmine. An even more demanding double whammy from Matthew Quinn, as a gleeful Vizier and a cuddly Yeti – excellent work in both. Steve Simmonds was amusing as a somewhat jaded Genie of the Lamp, and Tom Jude worked well with Quinn as the Emperor. The “infernal boy” who woos his daughter was the clean-cut Oliver Seymour-Marsh, who sang superbly I thought. Joe West worked his socks off as Wishee-Washee, encouraging the audience [who were often several steps ahead of him], throwing himself enthusiastically into all that physical stuff; his mother, hardly old enough to be widowed, surely, was company regular Simon Jessop's Twankey, with a nice line in caustic throwaways and of course some gorgeous outfits – the Willow Pattern, the washing-line titfer.


The Young Company – one of three teams of eight children – brought energy and enthusiasm to the staging, and had some of the best choreography [Donna Berlin], dressed as mini-me genies for the pyrotechnic Act One finale, and making oysters from fans, pearls from fireflies, in the Palace Garden.


And “hours of humiliation” for random punter Michael from Ilford, who made the mistake of sitting in the front row ...


Mark Walters' designs sparkled, like pages from a pop-up book; the wall of China disappearing into the distance “like the tail of a dragon”, and a lovely cave.


There were novelties – an inventive carpet ride, the messy scene featuring an animated noodle bar rather than the laundry – but this panto did not neglect tradition [Hearts and Flowers, New Lamps for Old] or the all-important routine and repetition [watering the plants]. We should not forget that these hoary old gags are cutting edge comedy for the five-year-old in the row in front … “No, I always walk like this … Suit yourself, Michael !”

SPEND, SPEND, SPEND

at the New Wolsey Theatre Ipswich

10.11.10

for The Public Reviews

Here's Viv, blowing her own trumpet, working as a stylist in Salon Mystique, raising the steel shutters to turn back the clock, roll back the years, to the days before the Big Win, when she was still a simple lass, selling Kia-Ora in the cinema.

Spend, Spend, Spend is a musical based loosely on the rise and fall of Viv Nicholson, the coal miner's wife from Castleton who scooped a record pools jackpot in 1961.

We're in Blood Brothers country here, musically and dramatically, Billy Elliott territory, something of Sondheim too, in one or two clever lyrics. It's gritty, hard-hitting and very funny.

The story is a powerful one. The message is clear, and certainly bears repeating fifty years on: money does not always bring happiness. This version has all the more impact, is all the more enjoyable, for having a company of twelve actor/musicians who play all the parts and all the instruments too: Viv's trumpet, accordion, flute, sax, pub piano, and a drum kit tucked tidily into the snug behind the bar.

The miners' local, and various bedrooms, in posh Garforth, in New York, see most of the action, and the two dozen musical numbers keep the pace lively. No real showstoppers in Steve Brown's serviceable score, but many delights, including the hint of calypso in Ice Cream Girl, the touching Canary in a Cage, the glorious title song. with almost everyone tarted up as bunny girls, the big emotional duet Who's Gonna Love Me, and the dance of love with a “complete total stranger” stripped of his fireman's uniform. One of the more surreal scenes has Keith, the boy next door, playing his cello under the undies on the washing line.

Karen Mann was a gutsy Viv, still ready to raise two fingers to the world, ruefully looking back in amazement at the naivety and the excesses of her life, but never complaining, never excusing. She shared the role with Kirsty Hoiles, outstanding as her younger alter ego – a neat trick which afforded many poignant moments. Greg Barnett was Keith, her second husband who helps her drink her winnings away and dies on the road to the races, with Graham Kent a strong Yorkshire presence as her abusive Dad.

Tom Gearing was the show MD [and Viv's grown-up son], and it was all directed and choreographed by Craig Revel Horwood. The ingenious and evocative design, neatly combining the pub, the bedroom and the salon, was by Diego Pitarch.

The moving ending – before the reprises – is Viv's visit to their old terrace house, where she watches the Viv and Keith who might have been waltz gently out of her life.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

PINTER DOUBLE BILL

at the Mercury Theatre Colchester

08.11.10

for The Public Reviews

“The ending was so obvious, I thought ...” - “They're not normal people are they ?” - “The worst play I ever saw was called Waiting for Godot.” - “It's all about truth and trust.”

When it comes to Pinter, we're all critics. The Mercury's contrasting double bill, directed by Gari Jones who worked closely with the playwright for some years, gave us two early plays, the first, written for radio in 1958, was A Slight Ache. Not the most satisfying stage play, it begins in Ayckbourn territory, in a country garden with breakfast and the Daily Telegraph. But already the silent, sinister Match Seller is lurking at the gate, turning the drama dark with frustration, jealousy and fear of growing old.

Sara Perks gave the couple a lovely garden, study and scullery, and they were played with some feeling by Dee Evans, very touching when she tenderly takes the stranger's arm, and Andrew Neil, who reminded me more than once of Richardson in the much later No Man's Land. Graeme Brookes was the old, deaf, half-blind tramp who becomes Flora's surrogate child and lover.

In the second play, The Lover, Brookes was another figure now vanished from our streets, the milkman. I found this piece, which also deals with fear and jealousy, much more successful dramatically, with its double dealing and fantasy role plays. Another super set, more Venetian blinds, and two very impressive performances from Gina Isaac and Gus Gallagher. The dialogue, often wryly amusing, was played with wit and precision, and all the movements and gestures were telling.

Written after Pinter's first great hit with The Caretaker, it is nonetheless fifty years old, so playing it in such a strikingly contemporary setting is going to set up tensions: these are people who worry about sharpening shears, talk of cocoa and the wireless, and clearly live in a cottage in the country where the neighbours might gossip. And we see them in a swish flat, with designer wardrobes and furniture...

Like many of Pinter's plays, The Lover can be a comedy or a dark drama – Gari Jones's sparky production successfully managed elements of both.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

THE OVERCOAT

Gecko at the New Wolsey Theatre Ipswich

30.10.10

for The Public Reviews

The world of dreams conjured by Gecko's Overcoat kept most of us enthralled for over an hour. And not a moment of naturalism.

Director Amit Lahav, who plays the humble clerk Akakki, was inspired by reading Gogol's short story to re-create the protagonist's inner world for the theatre.

The “manteau” itself, suspended stage right, is key to Akakki's happiness: as the tag-line has it, Get the coat, get the girl, change the world. “Cambia la vita”, is how he puts it. His “cappotto” appears as a vision, and, at one of the piece's several climaxes, he dances with delight before both coat and the unattainable Natalia [Natalie Ayton, in a magical performance] materialize from nowhere. In a stunning piece of stagecraft, our hero literally climbs into the coat, and joins his girl under a friendly street-lamp.

Music, movement, light and shade are the language here. Such words as we hear are stylised, rapped out and repeated. In a cosmopolitan babel, reminiscent of the circus, or of the early days of moving pictures, everyone speaks a language of his own; context provides clues, and occasional bafflement deepens the confusion of the dream.

The Overcoat has been filmed many times, there's a Russian ballet, and Marcel Marceau did a successful mime version. Very hard to convey the style that Ipswich-based Gecko bring to the tale. Kafka as re-imagined by Fellini, perhaps, but this is a unique, inventive dramatic voice, a seamless blend of skills.

Lighting [James Farncombe], music [Dave Price] sound [Dan Steele] and design [Ti Green] are all vital, and our seven performers are versatile and physically eloquent. A glockenspiel leads us into a frenzied wedding feast, all in the fevered imagination of Akkaki, thrashing in his little bed.

Esta solo ? Are you alone ? asks the voice from behind the tiny door, our hero's solitary pleasure rudely interrupted. But even in his lonely garret, he's surrounded by others, embodying the radio, the two-bar electric fire, the portrait of his parents. There were many spectacular moments and memorable images. The swarms of newspapers, the mist swirling and billowing across the stage, Rags to Riches sung in the glare of a single spotlight. But best of all was the office, strips of light on the floor, bulbs flashing, papers shuffled, stamped and filed, and Natalia the distant beloved at her pedestal desk.

And after an apotheosis of sorts, rejection and fall from grace, the clerk is led off into the light, and the glockenspiel is left to add a tinkling coda to this atmospheric piece of physical theatre.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

FOLLIES

All Star Productions at Ye Olde Rose and Crown Theatre, Walthamstow

22.10.10

for The Public Reviews

'Follies' unplugged upstairs at the Olde Rose and Crown, Walthamstow, from the enterprising All Star Productions, who have made a speciality of Sondheim shows.

Up the narrow, winding staircase, into a space smaller than the average foyer. A piano trio is playing, and the lovely young Weissman girls are dancing decorously in their scanties.

Through the window, the twinkling lights of distant Tottenham stand in for the New York skyline.

There are huge benefits in the chamber approach to this bitter-sweet musical. I loved the reduction for piano, cello, violin and, later, flute. And not a microphone in sight. It was incredible to see the characters disintegrate at close quarters, in the raw pain of “Too Many Mornings”; the ironic saccharine optimism of “Tomorrow” gained an extra impetus in this intimate setting.

Sometimes it was hard to see the whole picture; occasionally the vocal dynamic, even unamplified, was overpowering. But I'd much sooner see this show in a space with character than, say, the soul-less revival at the Royal Festival Hall.

For me, Julie Ross's Phyllis was near definitive: resigned, but resenting her 'bargain with life', her every expression, every inflection spoke volumes. And her “Could I Leave You” was impeccably crafted. April Nicholson's flirty Carlotta gave a superb “I'm Still Here”, the wind stirring the restless trees behind her, and a not inappropriate memory loss halfway through.

As Ben, the high-flier, German-born Frank Loman was charming, witty and urbane, and handled his numbers skilfully; Mark Hutchinson, a believable oil salesman but suggesting the rage within, did a brilliant “Buddie's Blues”, with the assistance of mistress Margie, and Mrs Sally Durant Plummer, whose descent into madness was depicted with real pathos by Maggie Robson, going to pieces behind her brittle, bright mask.

The specialities were enjoyable, especially perhaps Teresa Jennings' Solange and of course Ellen Vereniks' Broadway Baby.

No room for much scenery – just a couple of treads for the grand staircase – but Tim McArthur's ingenious staging did manage some impressive production numbers, including LoveLand and the mirror routine, with a great tap line [how did that sound in the Saloon Bar downstairs, I wonder ?]. The careful hair and make-up reminded us that the Follies disbanded in 1941. Shame we couldn't have managed a follow spot, but there were countless eloquent stage pictures - “Girls Upstairs”, with the older quartet watching their younger selves tripping gaily off to Tony's, and Heidi's song an ironic commentary on love. It was shared by Rachel Dobell and, as her younger shadow in a Waltz Dream of her own, Jenny-Marie Cooper.

MD Aaron Clingham led his Palm Court players effortlessly through the Sondheim numbers, pastiche, patter and power ballad.

Two dozen or so in the cast, twice that number in the house. A real shared experience – the final walk-down came all too soon.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

THE GRAPES OF WRATH

Mercury Theatre Company at the Mercury Theatre Colchester

18.10.10

for The Public Reviews

It's twenty years now since Galati's dramatisation of this Steinbeck classic hit the National Theatre's stage. Like the novel, it remains as strong as ever, and as relevant, with the little people powerless against the elements and financial institutions.

Tony Casement's epic production [three hours including the interval] is set on a boarded floor, with a revolve, with broken boards upright behind to form an arena. Dust drifts in, 'hung like fog', together with three musicians, whose contribution as actors, narrators, underscorers, and still, silent witnesses will be vital to the play.

Tim Treslove's fallen preacher is discovered on. His noble sinner, one of many religious echoes in the piece, was a memorable creation, human, yet a hero. His meeting with Tom [Gary Shelford] begins the narrative; he confesses and hears confession, and twice offers himself as a sacrifice. Shelford, too, was outstanding as the son who returns from jail to find his home abandoned, and who eventually leads his folks to a new life in California. His determination, and his deep-seated violence, were eloquently expressed in a corner-stone performance. The other central figure, who, like Tom, never loses a naïve optimism and the will to go on, was Ma, Nicky Goldie. Two moments will stay with me from her wonderful embodiment of this warm-hearted matriarch: her dumbfounded shock when she sees her son return, and her desperate strength after Grandma's death on the journey.

Among a large cast there were several familiar Company faces, and countless telling characterizations. Roger-Delves-Broughton's weary Pa, Adrian Stokes' Grandpa - “ a heller yet” - Keith Dunphy's simple-minded Noah, who cannot bring himself to leave the river, Emily Woodward's Rose of Sharon, and Ignatius Anthony as Uncle John, obsessed by sin and guilt. Christopher Staines left his place in the band to give a performance of distilled despair and bitterness as the Man Going Back.

As in last year's site-specific Depot, there was also a horde of Community Actors, who filled the stage at key dramatic moments. Like the thrilling off-stage chorus as they marched on for the first time, the teeming masses caught up in the catastrophe.

The staging was simple, but the groupings were always effective. Maybe the truck [ingeniously constructed from the Joads' furniture] travelled a little too long on the revolve, but we also had a grave, and two water scenes, the second an apocalyptic flood. The barn dance, in the relative comfort of Weedpatch, was moving, too.

Like Steinbeck's “march and symphony” novel, the play ends with a mythic, heart-stopping scene in the barn. Music, lighting, the Old Master stage picture, and of course the performances, all came together to marvellous effect, and sent us out shattered into the clear air of Colchester.

production photograph by Robert Day

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews