A Very Very Dark Matter at The Bridge Theatre

 Politically Incorrect? …. Tick.  Jet Black Humour? …. Tick.  Irreverent? …. Tick.  Funny? …… Absolutely.  If you thought Martin McDonagh’s previous plays crossed boundaries, they are nothing compared to this, his latest offering now playing at The Bridge Theatre. Like The Pillowman, one of McDonagh’s earlier plays, A Very Very Dark Matter centres around those often very sinister nineteenth century fairy tales.  In fact an author of such stories, namely Hans Christian Andersen, played to great effect by Jim Broadbent, is the main character.  Well, to be absolutely correct, he shares the “main” honours with Marjory/Ogechi (the excellent Kundai Kanyama) a Congolese pygamy who just happens to be the actual writer of Andersen’s tales.  Oh and one other thing …. she also just happens to be kept locked in a mahogany and glass box in the Danish man’s attic!  Not that she’s the only one helping out a great literary figure, for Charles Dickens (Phil Daniels) apparently kept Marjory’s sister in much the same way for much the same reason.

Bearing the above in mind, this play is most definitely not to everyone’s taste and if you’re easily offended it won’t be for you. In fact if I’d taken to heart most critic’s views, I might not have bothered heading along to The Bridge Theatre last night.  Luckily, I ignored their misgivings and found this, albeit undeniably strange play, apparently designed to offend, absolutely hilarious. But McDonagh always knows how to reduce an audience to guilt ridden laughter whilst delivering a serious message within the humour.

Jim Broadbent's Anderson is a vain, self-centred, narcissistic buffoon, everyone's favourite uncle in public, but with a very, very nasty underbelly in private. Only a sadist would cut off his "cash cow's" foot just because he can.  An imperial bully, much like the Belgian King Leopold II who underpins the serious aspects of this macabre piece; the one person Marjorie is determined to ultimately kill in order to prevent his slaughtering up to 10 million people in the Congo.  Wait a minute, this happens ten or so years after the death of Andersen, so time travel is also at work.  How does the lampooining of two great literary figures highlight the horror carried out by a Belgian dictator?  Is there a connection?  On the surface of it no, but McDonagh is nothing if not an accomplished storyteller and perhaps the link is the historical erasure of the misdemeanours of certain powerful figures in history, whilst the accomplishments of others with no power at all are overlooked.  For as Marjorie is at pains to mention, a statue of this brutal King was subsequently erected in his honour, whilst her endeavours with pen and paper will be never be recognised. 

One of the funniest moments is the scene showing Andersen’s famous visit to Dickens, when he outstayed his welcome by three weeks.  Broadbent is at his best highlighting the Danish author’s thick skin with his total lack of awareness at being the most unwelcome of guests with the entire Dickens family.  His complete misunderstanding of everything he’s being told is a joy. The hilarity of the situation is heightened thanks to the portrayal of Dickens and his wife, Catherine by Phil Daniels and Elizabeth Berrington.  We all know that the author liked the ladies a little bit too much, but here the sweary old letch is no match for his equally profane wife, who is under no illusion that she’s married to a serial philanderer.  And neither, come to that, are the couples’ children.

The attic of Andersen’s house is brilliantly realised by Designer Anna Fleischie with help from Lighting Designer Philip Gladwell.  If the dozens of marionettes suspended from the ceiling aren’t enough to foretell an unease of the something nasty in the woodshed variety, then the dim, atmospheric lighting certainly is. In addition the perfect timbre of Tom Waite’s voice as narrator and Matthew Dunster’s ability to realise McDonagh’s vivid imagination makes a play that might divide opinion, but ultimately showcases a playwright of immense ingenuity.

The Wild Duck at The Almeida

Thanks to Robert Icke’s direction of his new modern day adaptation of Ibsen’s The Wild Duck, now playing at The Almeida, there’s no chance of being in the dark as to what’s going on.  At various intervals the actors (especially Kevin Harvey as Gregory) use hand held mics to deliver asides to the audience, filling us in on …. well almost everything!  Whilst not on everyone’s list as one of our young top directors, it’s safe to say that he can be relied upon to always produce something out of the ordinary, especially with classic plays.  I for one, applaud his vision of turning old school adaptations on their heads, often in a radical fashion.  He describes this as “searching for a return to the impulse of the original play, to clear away the accumulated dust of its performance history”.

Icke’s deconstruction of The Wild Duck has had one critic denouncing him as arrogantly misleading us regarding Ibsen’s original premise.  That may be so, I don’t know, but what is hopefully true is that he is opening up a classic play to a younger audience.

The backbone of this 1884 tragi-comic drama is secrets and lies and it begins with the reuniting of old friends, Gregory Woods and James Ekdal (Edward Hogg) at the home of Gregory’s father, Charles (Nicholas Day).  For differing reasons, both men are suffering from a damaged childhood.  Gregory, an idealist, rejects his wealthy father, condemning him for a lifetime of lying, whilst James lives in the shadow of the fact that his father, Francis (the wonderful Nicholas Farrell) has spent time in prison.  Following Gregory’s decision to rent the bottom floor of the apartment inhabited by James, wife Gina (Lyndsey Marshal), thirteen year old daughter Hedwig (Clara Read on the night I went) and Francis, the Ekdal’s life is ripped apart.  Thanks to Gregory’s need to tell the truth no matter what, long held secrets regarding Gina and Charles Woods are given the light of day and unleash the worst possible tragedy.

The cast are exemplary and Icke’s direction allows each and every one of them to display their hidden emotional depths to great effect.  Especially fine is Nicholas Farrell, who expertly portrays the fact that Francis is in the early throes of dementia.  His tender relationship with Hedwig is a joy to behold, helped by the fact that Clare Read is an extremely accomplished young actress.  Edward Hogg makes for a thoroughly believable James, so much so, that there are times when there’s a tremendous urge to bang this self-centred dreamer’s head against the wall!  Praise too for Kevin Harvey who manages to imbue the verbose Gregory with hidden troubled depths, despite there being no hint of anything but a calm exterior at the start of the play.  Meanwhile Lyndsey Marshal leaves us in no doubt that this tragic woman has given her whole life to caring for her infantile husband and frail daughter.

Bunny Christie’s set is also to be applauded.  The metamorphosis from bare stage to habitable living space is effortlessly carried out during the interval and hiding the attic from view until the end a triumph.  The sight of the imagined forest portrayed by fir trees bedecked in twinkling lights is, for me, the most affecting moment in the whole production, rather than the tragic denouement which is just too melodramatic and overstated.

PS. I love the duck!

Stories at The Dorfman

Nina Raine’s last play, Consent, also performed at The Dorfman, threw  light on the legal system, allegations of rape and “who should believe who”.  Alongside these serious issues, there was a heavy dose of wit, highlighting the fact that this playwright is a dab hand at comic dialogue. As a result, my expectations regarding her latest offering, Stories, were pretty high. Her new hot topic concerns a childless, recently dumped woman in her late thirties, who is desperate for a baby and decides to go down the sperm donor route.

Whilst Raine once again deploys her talent at portraying serious issues with a lightness of touch, Stories doesn’t quite live up to its predecessor.

The woman in question, Anna, is played by Claudie Blakley and, although we can’t quite sympathise with her plight (if this is down to the script or her performance or a bit of both, I’m not too sure) she is, nevertheless very watchable.  Her search for a suitable donor is undergone pretty much as if she were casting a play, intentionally so, perhaps, as her career is something in the theatre world.  Each man she “interviews”, plus her ex, is brilliantly played by Sam Troughton, although her choice of father is somewhat suspect.  We have, amongst others, a super-cool movie director knee deep in anecdotes, a bereaved actor who is disappointed that it’s not an acting job she’s offering and some flake from the music business.  What they all have in common is a deep reluctance to commit to anything appertaining to being an adult.

There are also good performances from the actors portraying Anna’s family. Stephen Boxer is her dad, who, although often crass with a default sarcasm is always supportive.  Margot Leicester her mother, is suitably motherly and sympathetic and Brian Vernel makes a very realistic younger brother; honest to a fault and with a good line in sibling bickering.

The set by Designer Jeremy Herbert is very effective.  A stage dividing the Dorfman in two, with sliding geometric shapes is the ideal way of showcasing a play consisting of many short sharp scenes in various locations.

What isn’t so persuasive is that Raine includes another two characters, namely the young daughter of Anna’s best friend and an elderly lady on her deathbed.  The girl is presumably a plot device so that the reading of stories is included in the play, but I can’t understand why she has a surreal intermittent interaction with a couple of the would-be suitors.  The old woman is childless and as she dies at the end of the play, Stories ends on a very downbeat note.  I left the theatre pondering why she is even introduced.  May be an attempt to portray the passages of a woman’s life?  Probably, but the whole device seems strained and last minute.

It’s a pity to be negative about a play written by such a talented playwright and I do wonder if she should have handed the directorial reins over to someone else.