Home I'm Darling at The Dorfman

With her new play, Home I’m Darling, Laura Wade has turned her attention to feminism, using Katherine Parkinson’s character, Judy, as the conduit.  Judy is married to Johnny (Richard Harrington) and, following her voluntary redundancy, has decided to be a stay at home wife.  But this is no ordinary housewife, as Judy has turned herself into a1950’s version, complete with frilled “pinny” and gathered full skirts cinched in at the waist.  There is no escape for the house either, decorated as it is with a riot of primary colours, hideous 50’s furniture and accoutrements including a pineapple ice bucket on top of the cocktail cabinet.  The kitchen also accommodates an authentic fridge of the era.  It’s just a shame that it doesn’t work properly, especially when it had to be collected from Sunderland and the couple live in Hertordshire!  All credit to Designer, Anna Fleischie, for turning the set, where we’re able to see into every colourful room of this nauseatingly twee home, into yet another character.

At first, it’s easy to assume that the play is set in the fifties. It’s only when Judy opens a draw, removes her laptop and starts to type that we realise we’ve been hoodwinked and it’s actually 2018.  Whilst giving the appearance of embracing the simpler post war years to the full, she isn’t 100 percent committed.  Johnny has even less commitment to his wife’s obsession, but nevertheless plays the game to some extent by allowing Judy to overdo the wifeliness.  She bustles round at breakfast to ensure he has his every need, hands him his lunchbox (fifties authentic of course), and kisses him goodbye as he leaves for work. Every man’s dream one might think, except that problems arise of the monetary kind (playing this type of dress-up doesn’t come cheap) and they are having to survive without his wife’s salary.  Perhaps it would be better if Judy were more like her friend Fran (Kathryn Drysdale) who, whilst enjoying the dressing up and attending Jivestock, hasn’t turned her whole life into an episode of Happy Days.

But then Fran doesn’t share her friend’s dysfunctional childhood, comprising a nasty parental divorce and early years spent in a hippie feminist commune.  A factor of Judy’s need for domesticity and the knowledge that there is a place for everything and everything in its place.  Plus, as the compliant domestic goddess, she is as far removed from her latter day Greenham Common mother, Sylvia’s (Sian Thomas) ideal as it’s possible to be.  Not that she doesn’t still think of herself as a feminist, and demonstrates this with her counter arguments whilst being hilariously confronted by Sylvia berating her daughter’s lifestyle choice.  Other feminist issues are also raised. They include the #MeToo movement, as Fran’s husband Marcus (Barnaby Kay) is guilty of sexual harassment in the workplace and the problems Johnny has in dealing with a younger female boss.

Tamara Harvey has done an excellent job directing this terrific ensemble but it is Katherine Parkinson who drives the piece.  She is perfect at playing a character, who despite being on the cusp of descending into absolute despair, does so with an equal amount of hilarity.  Sian Thomas is equally fine and the highlight of the play is her hilarious rant against the subjugation of women.

There are times when the play sags very slightly in the middle, mostly when some cast members break off the dialogue and break into a “Strictly” jive routine, but as a whole this is a very clever take on a very emotive subject.

Does it make one yearn to return to the Fifties way of life?  Absolutely not!

Exit the King at The Olivier

Romanian born, Eugene Ionesco, was a leading light in “The Theatre of the Absurd” and, as such, is possibly not everyone’s cup of tea.  Add to that equation that his play, Exit the King, currently playing at The Olivier, concerns death and you could attest that it’s not a sure-fire box office hit.  However, there are a couple of major pluses.  Rhys Ifans, plays King Berenger, the remaining cast are excellent and Patrick Marber not only directs but has written this new snappy and, at times, very funny version.

In the early nineteen sixties, having recently turned fifty, Ionesco was suffering from recurring bouts of liver disease.  Becoming convinced that he was nearing the end of his life (he actually lived for another thirty years) this most moribund of men told himself that he could learn how to die.  These thoughts eventually transformed themselves into a drama and Exit the King was born in 1962.  It is not the only Ionesco play to feature a character called Berenger.  The name, although not necessarily the same person, crops up in three others and is offered as a kind of Everyman who finds himself reluctantly doing battle with inexplicable forces, in this case death.

The play is set in an unknown kingdom which King Berenger has ruled for over 450 years.  That it’s in its last throes is obvious, even without the references to the devastating effects of global warning.  This is down to Anthony Ward’s set, which has an enormous crack running down the central wall of the throne room. A crack which enlarges as the play progresses.  However, it’s the king who will be the first to utter the last breath; at the end of the play to be precise.  And lest we forget, the time he has left is periodically spoken out loud by a cast member.  The count-down to his demise begins as soon as the play starts.

Needless to say, the king is not a willing participant in this and neither is Queen Maria (Amy Morgan) his second wife.  Sexy and with an inexplicable French accent (perhaps to accentuate her sexiness), Maria doesn’t want to face up to the fact that her husband has only a few hours left.  Queen Marguerite (Indira Varma) his first and more sensible wife, is much more phlegmatic and the contrast between her and the more favoured younger one is played out to joyous effect.  Alongside these we have The Guard (Derek Griffiths) decked out like a toy soldier, The Doctor (Adrian Scarborough) in wizard-like pointy hat and a “prattish” servant called Juliette (Debra Gillett).

Rhys Ifans is unrecognisable.  His long lanky frame, encased in blue PJ’s once his ceremonial robes have been divested, mirrors his long lanky wig.  There is no doubt that the actor who made Spike so memorable in the movie Notting Hill is no one trick pony.  Switching from a Richard III tyrannical despot to a frail old man with legs that won’t hold his weight, Ifans frightens and moves us in equal measure.  And how refreshing that he has no qualms about looking downright ugly, not only here with his make-up smudged, Geisha like face and pull on bobble hat, but also in his recent roles as The Fool to Glenda Jackson’s Lear and Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, both at The Old Vic.  Ionesco states that in learning of his impending death Berenger moves from denial to anger through to bargaining and depression, and Ifans portrays all this to perfection.  A tour de force if ever I saw one.

He is ably helped by the rest of the cast.  Indira Varma plays icy cool severity brilliantly and is every inch the senior, if not more popular Queen.  Amy Morgan is the perfect opposite and there is no better actor than Adrian Scarborough at portraying pomposity.  Add Debra Gillett’s humorous slapstick servant to the mix and the final dramatic scene, and Exit the King, although undeniably strange and maybe a touch too long, is worth the price of a ticket.   

Allelujah at The Bridge Theatre

A new play by Alan Bennett is always highly anticipated, especially when it’s directed by Nicholas Hytner.  And so it was with great expectations that I booked to see Allelujah at The Bridge Theatre.  Sadly, in this instance, the saying, “never expect”, is never more apt, as the great Mr. Bennett’s latest offering isn’t his best.

The play is set in a geriatric ward, although it often has the feel of an old people’s rest home, in an old style, cradle-to-grave Yorkshire hospital (the Beth) which is faced with closure.  It focuses on several of the elderly patients, Colin (Samuel Barnett), the son of wheelchair bound Joe (Jeff Rawle), Salter (Peter Forbes) the Chairman of the Hospital Trust and Sister Gilchrist (Deborah Findlay).  In order to try and keep the Beth alive, the self- important Salter is waging a sponsored campaign, which includes a two-man

documentary team filming the ward and those connected with it.

The main thrust of the play, apart from the threat of the hospital’s closure, is  its lack of beds and the need, as far as Nurse Pinkney (Nicola Hughes) is concerned to keep the patients’ “spirits up”, by getting them all to sing in her choir.  Add to this a dollop of concern about the lack of visitors, ‘If people love their parents, why do they put them away’ and the less than subtle nod to Brexit and the problem this is likely to cause immigrants like the excellent Dr. Valentine (Sacha Dhawan).  Bennett’s points hit home and we’re in no doubt as to his bugbears.  The trouble is that it isn’t until we get to the Second Act that some sort of plot emerges.  That’s not to say Allelujah isn’t rich with Bennett’s usual witty dialogue, often uttered by the aged patients, and the visuals, when the geriatrics mix their singing with a dance or three, is at times joyous.  I just wish the whole thing wasn’t quite so contrived.

Deborah Findlay is superb as the rather hard-nosed ward sister who has her own, albeit drastic, solution to the freeing up of beds.  She expertly shows how resigned this hard-working nurse has become to the constant daily chores of tending to the old, and only allows some warmth to shine through when tripping the light fantastic with Thatcher hater Joe.  Also doing a great job is Peter Forbes as the puffed-up canary, Salter, feathering his own nest in as officious manner as possible.  And let me not forget Jeff Rawle, Samuel Barnett and Sacha Dhawan, who all ensure their characters are anything but one dimensional.

Bob Crowley has designed a clever set of movable peach coloured walls portraying the various wards, corridors and nurse’s station.  He also extends the playwright’s humorous poke at modernism (William Wordsworth ward is now named Joan Collins) by plonking a blue NHS direction sign ‘Chapel’ above ‘Endoscopy’.

Despite the depressing nature of the play, and my few quibbles, Allelujah still has enough Bennett brilliance to make it enjoyable.  It’s just not quite as entertaining as his previous works.