THE 39 STEPS

John Buchan adapted by Patrick Barlow

at the Criterion Theatre, Piccadilly Circus

06.04.09

A cheeky false proscenium, in this bijou theatre, for the tiny boxes where the heroic Hannay gets the girl and saves the day.

Rufus Wright was the stiff-upper-lip, snobbery-with-violence protagonist, and the hundred or more other characters were played by Laura Rogers [most of the women, all of the love interest] and Sean Kearns and Dermot Canavan.

The original plot was present, and mostly correct, though it has to compete for space in this 90 minute romp with nods to Hitchcock, physical comedy routines and good wholesome fun. The genius of the show was that none of this was particularly complex, or difficult even, but it's done at breakneck pace with amazing confidence and chutzpah. There's wind, snow and fog, there's a lovely little train, there's a Tommy Cooper hat routine, the two-sided character, even the cliché four-chair car !

Good use of music too – for Hannay's romantic stirrings, Coronation Scot for the train, even the Palladium theme.

It's all very tongue-in-cheek, never afraid to poke fun at itself, and altogether a deliciously entertaining evening in the West End. And it's now in its fifth year, and this is the seventh quartet to take the Flying Scotsman over the Forth Bridge ...

THE SORCERER

Opera della Luna at the Civic Theatre

02.04.11

Opera della Luna have taken Gilbert's comic opera and fast-forwarded it to the 1970s, where its themes of free love and mind-altering substances feel very much at home.

We are at a garden fête, inside an impressive marquee. Before the overture is finished, we've had handbells and unrequited love, neatly symbolised by the vicar's panama hat.

The “pale young curate” in question was Philip Cox, by no means ancient enough, but very amusing, especially in his drug-fuelled infatuation with Alexis in Act Two.

Alexis was played as a groovy swinger – flared jeans, purple velvet, droopy moustache – by Oliver White, who managed his tenor arias with some style, too, even when hand-jiving, disco dancing and cavorting with his intended, Abigail Iveson's Aline.

The Sorcerer himself was Richard Gauntlett, and Mrs Partlett, mother of the rustic maiden Constance [nicely sung by Claire Watkins] was a hilarious Graham Hoadly.

Another Opera della Luna regular, Ian Belsey, was the funny old buffer Sir Marmaduke; Sylvia Clarke as his beloved had just the kind of rich, deep tone these roles demand.

The Ploverleigh Village Band was conducted by Artistic Director Jeff Clarke, who was also responsible for this inspired revival. The music was treated with respect, but not reverence, and the inventive staging and polished comic performances made for a disgracefully enjoyable evening.

GOERING'S DEFENCE

at the Cramphorn Theatre

01.04.11

Bull-necked, jack-booted, Hermann Goering stands before us, a defiant, arrogant, thug. But also an honest airman, a heroic Siegfried, a lover of the theatre. A believer in power through truth; a loyal supported of Hitler from the earliest days.

It is his last night; he is about to cheat the hangman, win one last victory and finally find a kind of peace.

Ross Gurney-Randall's mesmerising performance switches from his bare cell to the Nuremburg courtroom, using verbatim extracts from the trial, with Goering answering the disembodied voice of prosecutor Jackson.

No German accent, no uniform, no scenery, no clever effects. Just the man, refusing to excuse or apologise, talking to us without pretence; the magic here is in the words [written by Gurney-Randall with Andrew Bailey and the director, Guy Masterson]. The most poetical passages were for the worst atrocities – the violence of the beer hall massacre, the searing images from the death camps – Himmler's baby, according to Goering's testimony.

This is no mere history lesson, though we do follow Hitler's right-hand man through the rise of Nazism to its defeat. Tomorrow belongs to his child Edda, he says, And as we live that tomorrow with her, we must never forget how easy it is for men like Hermann to persuade and pervert.

THE BIRTHDAY OF THE INFANTA

Trestle Unmasked
Trestle Theatre Company

at the Mercury Studio, Colchester

02.04.11

for The Public Reviews

Oscar Wilde's short story – a spoilt Spanish princess breaks the heart of a simple child – is reworked by Trestle into a rich, mythic experience, full of the magic that only theatre can work.

It takes its inspiration, and much of its design, from the Velasquez painting of Las Meninas. Our storyteller, black clad like a stern tutor, is wandering through the auditorium as we enter, making sporadic small-talk with the gathering listeners. “The longer the name, the more status you have ...”, a sentiment with which Wilde would certainly concur.

The mirror and the fan dominate Jean Chan's evocative design, based around a fragment of a richly ornamented picture frame. The fans will become flowers, butterflies, the horns of a bull … The detail achieves deep significance: the pearl, the rose. This is collaborative play-making. We fashion flowers from tissue paper, trumpet the arrival of the Infanta, two children dance, one removes yards of the dead Queen's innards as part of a gruesome disquisition on the art of the embalmer. But mostly it is Georgina Roberts' energetically enchanting performance which makes this such a memorable hour. She assumes every character, from the delicate, charming Princess to the pathetic mis-shapen boy who is plucked from the forest to make her laugh on her twelfth birthday. She becomes courtiers, gypsies, a French funambulist – his moustaches made from more fans – the bullfighter and the bull.

Music, light and sleight-of-hand are used to keep the momentum moving, and as we approach the dark dénouement – the moral lesson of Wilde's tale – delight and wonder are replaced by regret and despair. A kaleidoscope of marvellous moments remain in the memory long after we emerge into the spring sunshine. The ape heralded by a sudden banana, the philosophical lizards, the distorting mirror, the sundial and the snake.

This heady blend of story-telling and physical theatre, directed by Emily Gray, is a passionate piece, and deserved a larger audience than Colchester could manage. Its message is just as important for today's children [and grown-ups] as it was when Wilde wrote it, or when Velasquez painting his Infanta.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

CINDERELLA

Matthew Bourne's ballet

New Adventures at the Theatre Royal, Norwich

26.03.09

Imposing front cloth with London in the Blitz, and a huge close-up of Cinderella's right glass slipper. Vera Lynn on the sound-track; not ousting Prokofiev, surely … No, here's the familiar ballet score, in glorious surround sound, just one of a number of respectful references to the movies.

At the end, after the curtain calls, showers of VE day confetti, and jiving Pennsylvania 6500 for a slow fade back to the slipper and St Paul's.

In between, a ballet which managed to be both innovative and traditional. This is a grey 1940s austerity world, with a dowdy Cinders and her vampish sisters. Even the flowing ball gowns are grey silk. Matthew Bourne's re-interpretation has many brilliant ideas, many of them realised thanks to Lez Brotherston's wonderful designs. The Embankment scene, the sidecar ride to the Ball after a glorious “Can't black out the moon” waltz sequence, the station tea room, with the clock a reminder of the last midnight, the wheel-chair-bound Father staring into the fire, the knees-up to what is usually Ugly Sisters music, and most impressive of all, the direct hit on the Café de Paris.

Although pure balleticism is not what this show is about, their was some fine dancing from a large company: Harry the Pilot [the Prince of this fairytale], who has most of the work to do, was Sam Archer, his Cinderella, looking as glamorous as Grace Kelly, was danced by Kerry Biggin, Madelaine Brennan played a Joan Crawford evil stepmother, and the Angel, our silver-haired Fairy Godfather, a lithely athletic Christopher Marney.