Dance Nation at The Almeida

When the play opens to a troupe of dancers doing a routine whilst dressed as escapees from an early production of South Pacific, I wasn’t aware the actors of various ages were actually portraying pre-teens.  However, it soon becomes clear that this troupe, comprising six girls and a boy, are full of teenage angst.  The angst is heightened because the world of American dance competition is fierce and intense and it’s this world that Clare Barron is highlighting in her new play, Dance Nation, currently playing at The Almeida.

Spurred on by their dance teacher, Pat (Brendan Cowell) to be the ‘best in show’ at their next local dance competition, the troupe do their utmost to put together a tribute to Gandhi.  And this despite the fact that the majority of them have never heard of the man.  The slightly creepy and very camp Pat has a favourite pupil, Amina (Karla Crome) who, not surprisingly, happens to be the star dancer (funny that).  She is driven as well as gifted, which doesn’t help her friend, Zuzu (Ria Zmitrowicz) who, desperate to pursue dance as a career, resorts to acts of self-harm on realising that she will always be second best.

The play not only charts the troupe’s journey towards said competition but also highlights the difficulties they encounter with their various friendships and the turmoil of their impending adolescence.  Barron doesn’t shy away from focusing on the messy side of female puberty or the language the girls use.  ‘Pussy’ appears to be their favoured word and there’s no holds barred when the top-notch Kayla Meikle gives her emotional monologue on how she views the world and it views her.  This is the absolute highlight of a play which is as strong on visuals as it is pre-teen language and how they view their burgeoning sexuality

Dance Nation is helped enormously by the direction of Bijan Sheibani, who brilliantly brings to life Barron’s look at the difficult path between childhood and adulthood.  The brutal, immensely scarey, intoxicating and at times messy journey is one we all go through and this terrific cast bring it all back, warts and all.  Strange at times and subversive always, Dance Nation is a play which deserves the accolades it received when premiered earlier this year in New York.

Othello at The Globe

I have to admit that Othello isn’t near the top of my list of favourite Shakespearian plays.  That the fate of Desdemona lies in a handkerchief is rather a feeble plot to my mind, but I’m probably in the minority.  And then I saw that that wondrous of Shakespearian actors, Mark Rylance, was to play Iago at The Globe and his wife, Claire van Kampen, would be directing.  No brainer, a ticket had to be bought!  Not only would Rylance bring something special to the part of that most scheming and malevolent of soldiers, but his partner would doubtless introduce something special musically.

I was right on both counts.  Although Rylance’s Iago, far from being out and out malicious (some of the character’s most malevolent speeches are cut) appears confused and ineffectual, it kind of works.  His hatred of Othello is hidden beneath a banal exterior, rather than a threatening one.  Not a jealous rage but a slow burn malicious envy that he can never fill Othello’s shoes.  His quiet, demeanour, seemingly helping everyone, belies his ultimate plan and makes for a truly original take on the part.  As for the musical side of the production, it’s faultless.  And that’s not just because we’re privy to Mr. Rylance’s prowess on the mandolin!  It’s well know that Claire van Kampen is a prolific composer and, alongside Music Director, Bill Barclay, shows off her skills here to great effect.  The interpretation of The Willow Song performed by Emila (Sheila Atim) and Desdemona (Jessica Warbeck) is especially moving and sung to perfection.

However, these two major pluses haven’t convinced me that Othello is up there amongst Shakespeare’s great tragedies.  Jealousy is by no means an attractive emotion and can and does cause extreme reactions but Othello as a character doesn’t really command the greatest of respect.  The American actor, Andre Holland, playing him here is excellent at portraying his character’s hysterical outbursts on discovering (or thinking he’s discovered) his wife’s infidelity.  It’s just a pity that the clarity of his speeches is sometimes a little off.

Sheila Atim, so very good in the recent Girl From the North Country, is equally affecting here as Emila, despite her rather off-putting canary jumpsuit.  Actually, a lot of the costumes are a little jarring, especially Roderigo’s (Steffan Donnelly) dandyish throwback from the eighties.  And Mark Rylance himself is dressed like a bellboy who wouldn’t look out of place in the movie The Grand Budapest Hotel. 

   
But these are minor quibbles about what is, on the whole, a very enjoyable production with the highlights occurring whenever the incomparable Mark Rylance is on stage.

Aristocrats at The Donmar

Whilst on a road trip around the west coast of Ireland last year, I was astonished to notice the dearth of large smart country houses and preponderance of identical little white ones, recalling Pete Seeger’s song, ‘Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky, little boxes all the same’.  Why?  Apparently, the State of Ireland must be held responsible. Following attacks on these grand houses during the Irish Civil War, they were then taxed up to the hilt and the inhabitants, mostly Anglo-Irish Protestants, left leaving them empty.  Instead of ensuring the houses longevity, the Irish government, in their wisdom, let any which hadn’t already done so, fall down and then encouraged the building of the little white bungalows around the coast.

The central character of Brian Friel’s play, Aristocrats, now playing at The Donmar, is one such country house, Ballybeg Hall in Donegal.  Once the home of siblings, Judith (Eileen Walsh), Alice (Elaine Cassidy), Casimir (David Dawson), Claire (Aisling Loftus) and their parents, it is now only inhabited by Claire, Judith, their father (James Laurenson) and Uncle George (Ciaran McIntyre).  The father, a former judge, lies dying upstairs, Uncle George never speaks and dutiful Judith is at her wits end trying to make ends meet whilst tending to every whim of ‘him upstairs’.  When the play opens, however, the decaying house is fully occupied.  Alice, husband Eamon (Emmet Kirwan) and Casimir have returned in readiness for the old man’s death, whilst Tom Hoffnung (Paul Higgins), an American professor is a temporary guest as he gathers material for his thesis.  

In order to ensure that father’s requests can be heard downstairs, local neighbour Willie Diver (David Ganly) is in the process of installing a speaker to the doorframe. I say door frame, but there is actually no telling where it’s being fixed because, despite the action taking place within the house and its close environs, the stage is bare.  Bare that is except for a suspended doll’s house replicating Ballybeg Hall and an upstage wall that gradually reveals the property in more prosperous times.  Es Devlin hasn’t exactly had her work cut out on this production!

The device used by Lyndsey Turner to ensure we’re aware of where the actors are at any one time, is for the stage directions to be read out loud, thus making a wordy play more so.  Not that this is detrimental to our enjoyment; Brian Friel has a wonderful way with words.  And the actors are, without exception, perfect in their various roles.  Especially so, is David Dawson as the fey Casimir.  With his rapid, jerky movements and ill at ease manner, he evokes pity and amusement.  He calls himself peculiar but Dawson manages to convey that this man is no fool.  Despite his recollections of many, many great artists and writers visiting the house in its heyday being rather skewed (the dates don’t add up) his overwrought behaviour is obviously a product of his upbringing not his intelligence.  One wonders if he is gay.  His obsession with keeping in touch with his German wife and three sons, is unconvincing.

Casimir’s siblings also have a touch of the fantasist.  Elaine Cassidy excels as Alice, the sister far too fond of alcohol and ensconced in what appears to be an unhappy marriage to a man too fond of the odd slap.  But she doesn’t let on to the others.  And then there is the youngest sister, Claire, who spends most of her time playing Chopin on the piano. Sadness is her default button and does she really believe all will be well when she marries her much older suitor?

Not a happy bunch but Aristocrats is not as depressing as it may appear.  The faultless performances, strains of Chopin wafting through the theatre and, of course Friel’s pitch perfect writing make for a very enjoyable evening.  But perhaps it wouldn’t necessarily be the case without the compelling Dawson’s Casimir.