Twelfth Night at The Globe

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Despite feeling decidedly unwell during the first forty-five minutes of Twelfth Night at The Globe and therefore not really concentrating on what was happening on stage during that time, I still rave about the production.  No wonder Sonia Friedman is transferring this and Richard III to The Apollo Theatre in a few weeks time.  Not only because it gives the chance for many more to see the master, that is Mark Rylance at work, but also to watch Stephen Fry in his role of Malvolio.  After all, Mr. Fry’s last foray onto the stage culminated in him doing a runner after only one week, citing depression and doubt. No wonder he breathed a sigh of relief on Twitter after the first preview of this latest showing of Shakespeare's excellent comedy.

He is brave to tread the boards once more, especially playing a character who seems slightly unhinged at times and I applaud him for that and for the fact that he portrays the self important Malvolio really well indeed.  This is an extremely funny Twelfth Night, not least when Mr. Fry comes on stage absurdly attired in very bright yellow stockings, cross gartered and with a gurning grin in exchange for his earlier lugubrious expression.  Laughter continues throughout his disastrous wooing of his mistress, Olivia (the magnificent Rylance, who is reprising the role he last played ten years ago).  This is, again, an all male production but such is the expertise of the whole cast that one never believes there are no females gliding around the Globe stage.  And I do mean gliding!  Especially adept at portraying feminine wiles is Paul Chahidi as Maria, whilst Johnny Flynn’s Viola is excellent and the white faced Mark Rylance is never less than superb.  The vision of his Olivia doing three point turns whenever she has to sit down is worth the ticket price alone.  I found myself longing for him to come back on stage. Also worth a special mention are Samuel Barnett as Sebastian, Liam Brennan as Orsino and Colin Hurley as Sir Toby Belch.

Director Tim Carroll has once again produced a superb period-dress revival, which, as with his equally wonderful Richard III, culminates in the cast showing off their dancing skills.  Please note that  Mark Rylance can even dance like a woman!  Even though the play is over long, thanks in part to James Garnon’s Feste breaking into song more often than I remember, this is yet another play not to be missed.  So much so, I’ve just booked to see it again in the West End.  Fingers crossed I’m fit and well so as not to miss all the bits of business from the cast I failed to take on board this time round. 

Hedda Gabler at The Old Vic

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Sheridan Smith is everywhere at the moment and I can see why she’s every Casting Director’s pick.  A chameleon actress, she is as believable as the “tart with a heart” as she is General Gabler’s daughter in the Old Vic’s production of Hedda Gabler.  This is a version by Brian Friel and it is imbued with much humour, especially in the first act.  Although I applaud any play that mixes tragedy with humour (after all there is comedy to be found in virtually any situation) there was the odd moment on Monday night when I felt Mr. Friel strayed a little bit into the modern day, especially when Judge Brack, convincingly played by Darrell D’Silva, broke into his Americanisms.  But that’s a minor bitch at what is, on the whole, an excellent interpretation of one of Ibsen’s famous plays.

Sheridan Smith’s Hedda comes across right from the start as rather unpleasant and a difficult woman with which to empathise.  Her new husband, George Tesman, brilliantly brought to life by the wonderful Adrian Scarborough, is a far more sympathetic character in this production by Anna Mackmin.  Irritating, yes, but devoted to his new bride and generous to a fault when it comes to her wants and needs.  He is also incredibly funny and the scene where he goes into raptures about his embroidered slippers is absolutely hilarious.  Unfortunately his warmth and intelligence is so not enough for the discontented Hedda.  She often treats him with palpable dislike and so believable is Sheridan Smith that I often found myself wincing at her behaviour towards him.  Having perfected little knowing smiles that not so much hint of sarcasm as shout it from the hilltops, she keeps us in no doubt that this lady knows what she’s doing and is very much intent upon doing it.  Meanwhile her attitude towards Tesman’s Aunty Ju-Ju (the always excellent Anne Reid) and Bertha the maid (Buffy Davis) is one of malevolent disdain.  This schoolgirl bully hasn’t learnt that that type of behaviour is unacceptable.

A contemporary from school, Thea Elvsted (excellently brought to life by Fenella Woolgar) fares no better at the hands of this Hedda Gabler and one almost expects her to reprise the role of hair pulling school girl from hell at any moment during their conversations.  Thea’s nervous anxiety whilst in Hedda’s company is touchingly real, although there is more to this independent “wronged” woman than meets the eye and this becomes apparent at the end of the play.

As a result of this, I find it hard to reconcile this Hedda as a victim, trapped in a suffocating marriage to a man she doesn’t love.  How does such a forceful character allow herself to accept the hand of a man so obviously unsure of women in general and Hedda in particular?  But then her father, whose portrait looms large in the middle of Lez Brotherston’s magnificent set, is obviously a dominating force, introducing his young daughter to guns and horses at a very young age but, arguably very little else.  Perhaps he had a hand in orchestrating her doomed marriage?  Maybe she was pregnant?  The reason is not made clear.  What is clear though is that Sheridan Smith does excellently convey signs of Hedda’s regret at the behaviour she is unable to curtail, whilst the tears she sheds when Tesman rejoices the news of her pregnancy are so, so real.

A more obvious source for her affection is the love of Thea’s life, Tessman’s academic rival, Eilert Loevborg (Daniel Lapaine).  A reformed alcoholic, thanks to the love and attention of Mrs. Elvsted, his meeting with Hedda after a long lapse is one of repressed emotion.  Whether sincere or not, we’re certainly left with the impression that his subsequent demise, ultimately engineered by Hedda, is the result of the latter’s jealousy at his relationship with her married friend.

Lez Brotherston’s set with it’s enormous glass walls and billowing curtains and Mark Henderson’s lighting which brilliantly evokes sunshine that is rarely allowed to permeate the gloom of this unhappy home all help to convey impending doom.  When the disaster arrives, we’re left in no doubt as to what has happened.  No off- stage death in this different, but ultimately satisfying production of Hedda Gabler.

Philadelphia Here I Come at The Donmar

Brian Friel’s 1964 play, Philadelphia Here I Come is currently playing at The Donmar and it is a particularly satisfying production. 

The play explores the dilemma facing young Gar O’Donnell; he wants to leave the confines of the parochial small town, Ballybeg, to experience the bright lights and new challenges of the US, but has reservations.  How can he leave without some kind of sign that his undemonstrative father/employer will not only miss his son but also has some measure of love for him.  In fact, if only he would plead with Gar not to go.  He also has to say goodbye to the old family retainer, Madge, who has effectively been the mother figure since the death of his real ma, and his old girlfriend who he has loved and lost to someone else.  The atmosphere in the O’Donnell household is one of repressed emotion.  No one says what they really mean.  In fact they hardly say anything at all, apart from the old man’s litany of banal phrases.  And as for human emotion, forget it.  Gar himself (or at least the public Gar) is equally culpable, but the clever Brian Friel enables us to glimpse the boy’s true feelings by also giving us the private Gar.  This works particularly well as the two actors, identically dressed, perfectly portray the two-sides of the twenty-five year old and Friel has them constantly shuffling the two roles, at times resembling a tennis rally.  We also realise Mr. O’Donnell does do emotion when he opens up slightly to Madge.  If only he was able to do the same to his son.

Gar’s poignant relationship with his silent and be-suited Da, is masterfully played by both Paul Reid and James Hayes.  Their fractured relationship is terribly moving and there was an audible sigh from the audience when the father doesn’t remember an incident in his son’s childhood when the two of them seemed to actually have some kind of close relationship.

The whole cast work extremely well together, but I particularly enjoyed Benny Young’s Canon Mick O’Byrne and Julia Swift as Gar’s Aunt, Lizzy Sweeney.  Her and her husband visit Ballybeg and she’s the one who sows the seeds of Gar’s escape.  Childless and living in Philadelphia, she is desperate for a son, even if he’s the son of her dead sister.  A special mention should also be made of the superb job Valerie Lilley does in playing the equally repressed Madge and Rory Keenan in bringing Gar’s inner voice to life with verve, bubbling anger and no small amount of wit.  In fact both Paul Reid and Rory Keenan are the perfect double act and help to make this production so delicately moving.  Anyone who has lost a parent or has one to whom they’ve never got through, will have their emotions particularly stirred.  All credit to the Director, Lyndsey Turner.

The staging of the play is also impeccable with a very clever design by Rob Howell illustrating the O’Donnell’s business by showing rows of household knick-knacks and groceries and clever lighting by Tim Lutkin.  In fact his lighting is shown to brilliant effect at the end of the play when it is used to emulate an aircraft taking off.  The question is “is Gar on board?”

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time at The Cottesloe

Whoops, I seem to be waxing lyrical about nearly everything, but I’ve been lucky enough to see some wonderful productions just lately, most of them staged at The National.  The Cottesloe’s latest offering keeps up the momentum.  The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, Mark Haddon’s wonderful book, has been lovingly and cleverly adapted for the stage by Simon Stephens.  

I, like countless others, so enjoyed reading the book and was “curious” to see how it would morph into a play.  Thanks to Bunny Christie’s very clever design, Marianne Elliott’s directorial flair and Luke Treadaway’s magnificent portrayal of Christopher Boone, a 15-year-old with behavioural problems (Mark Haddon regrets the phrase ‘Asperger Syndrome’ in his novel) we are treated to a superb theatrical experience.
Walking into the Cottesloe space each time is an experience in itself, as one never knows how it will be configured.  With Curious Incident the action takes place in a sunken, lit square, covered with a grid-like pattern resembling graph paper and bordered by low boxes on which the actors sit when not part of the action.  The one actor who never takes advantage of this is Luke Treadaway, who is the action ….. always.  He is a revelation, drawing the audience completely into his world and making us believe wholeheartedly that he is Christopher Boone. His total concentration, whether in assembling his train set or resolutely telling the truth no matter what, his oh so real epileptic fit and tangible horror at not wanting to be touched moved me as much as I’ve ever been moved in the theatre.   

The production stays faithful to the book and captures the insight and humanity of the original by using various theatrical techniques.  Siobhan (the always watchable Niamh Cusack), a sympathetic teacher at Christopher’s special school, reads aloud parts of the story Christopher has written, starting from his Holmes-like investigation into who killed Wellington, a neighbour’s dog and ending with his travelling to London to find his mother.  Christopher’s obsession with mathematics and love of the night sky, is brilliantly reflected, not only in the floor’s grid patterns, but also in Paul Constable’s wonderful lighting.  And his utter confusion when confronted with the hustle and bustle of London life is beautifully conveyed by the Movement Directors, Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett for Frantic Assembly.  Such is the inventiveness and skill of all concerned that, although the set consists solely of white boxes – oh yes, and a train set - the audience has no problem seeing, amongst other things, the neighbourhood gardens, Christopher hiding on top of a pile of luggage on a train and standing on the edge of a tube platform (the floor cleverly opens up to suggest the electric tube rails).  If the applause is anything to go by, everyone watching was as totally transfixed as myself.

The entire cast are exemplary but I especially enjoyed Paul Ritter’s portrayal of Ed, Christopher’s quick tempered, but ultimately loving father and Nicola Walker as his flawed mother, Judy.  Also, unlike various critics, I wasn’t put off by the appearance of the aahhh factor hidden in a cardboard box.  I was captivated way before the furry, four-legged cast member made its appearance and needed no manipulation to praise this production to the hilt.  It is wonderful.  Oh yes and apparently I'm special as my name equals a prime number;  I shall treasure my prize!!

Jumpy at The Duke of York's

Another day, another dysfunctional middle-class family.  This time at the Duke of York’s Theatre with Jumpy, a wonderfully funny, rude and at times moving new play by April de Angelis, which has transferred from The Royal Court.

Hilary, beautifully portrayed by the magnificent Tamsin Greig, is a mother with a problem, a problem all too recognisable to any parent who has, or has had a teenager in the family.  The teenager in this instance is stroppy, 15 year old Tilly (an excellent Bel Powley) who leaves the house looking twice her age and is found to be sleeping with her equally young boyfriend.  As a supposed liberal, fifty year old middle class London mother who once protested at Greenham Common, Hilary is at a loss as to how to react to a daughter who treats her with undisguised contempt.  She endures panic attacks on the tube, especially as she has the added worry that her job might be on the way out, so the obligatory glass or three of wine is essential to her well being whenever she arrives home.  There is no succour to be had from a passionate husband either, as sexual antics with him have long been replaced by her reading him excerpts from Great Expectations when they retire to the marital bed.  The marriage eventually grinds to a halt and she is subsequently hit on by her daughter’s boyfriend’s father (a self regarding actor very well played by Richard Lintern).  She doesn’t know whether to be fascinated, flattered or frightened.  In fact the whole play hinges on how Hilary should behave to whatever situation comes her way, which is why Greig is so perfect in the role.  She manages to convey exasperation, despair and the all encompassing maternal love, whilst treating us to comedic touches and several side splittingly funny moments.  Doon Mackichan as her best friend Frances also delivers on the comedy front.  Her decision to resuscitate a flagging theatrical career by showcasing a new burlesque routine is excruciatingly embarrassing and hilarious, as is her futile attempt to persuade Hilary to mirror her sexual aggressiveness. 

The writing is so very true to life and I defy any modern parent not to recognise the moment when they try to have a serious conversation with their offspring and the recipient of their words of wisdom is far more interested in studying their mobile phones.  The emotional truth is there for all to see and I love the way April de Angelis keeps you guessing as to the play’s outcome.

Nina Raine’s direction is tight and expertly merges the play’s comedy and deeper feeling.   Jumpy is yet another Royal Court success story.

The Last of The Haussmans at The Lyttleton

When I saw Julie Walters was returning to The National, the decision to book to see The Last of the Haussmans was a no brainer.  Watching it rather later on in the run than normal, I had already read the various professional critics air their views and they had somewhat dampened my excitement, but not too much.  After all Helen McCrory and Rory Kinnear are also in the cast, so the odd three rather than four stars really shouldn’t put me off.  And, as far as I’m concerned they didn’t.  Various criticisms over stereotypical characters and the production lacking in a searching or satisfying outcome doesn’t hold water with me.  Because, at the end of the day (or very enjoyable evening) the actor, Stephen Beresford’s first play delivers scorching one liners, a superb cast and a great, fun night out.

Judy (the national treasure that is Julie Walters) is an ageing hippy who lives in a ramshackle but beautifully situated, boat inspired house overlooking the sea somewhere in the West Country.  Her offspring, Libby (the excellent Helen McCrory) and Nick (the beautifully restrained but oh so believable Rory Kinnear) are staying with her as she recuperates from cancer surgery.  Neither particularly want to be there, scarred as they are by Judy’s less than satisfactory early parenting skills and ability to embarrass them whenever she opens her mouth.  Likewise, Libby’s fifteen year old daughter, Summer (Isabella Laughland - a complete natural), although her beef isn’t with her mouthy grandmother but with her mother, who has a propensity to fall in love, not only with the wrong men, but with men who are way too old.  Throw into the mix a local married Doctor, Peter (the very watchable Matthew Marsh) who flirts with Judy, who wouldn’t say no to a sexual invitation that unfortunately won’t happen because he has his eyes set on Libby, plus the young, fit Daniel (an excellent debut by Taron Egerton) who secretly fancies Libby but is lusted over by the gay, ex junkie, Nick and hero worshipped by Summer and the scene is set for melt down.

They all have issues.  Judy has never really become a grown up and is still locked into the sixties, yearning to return to India.  She comes alive when the Doc calls round, in what amounts to sixties fancy dress and they reminisce about the good times, bringing them back to life by singing, playing guitar or playing very, very loud music, much to the consternation of her children.  The uptight and bossy Libby is starved of love and is concerned about whether or not her and Nick will inherit the house.   Brother Nick, also unlucky in love, is a neurotic, camp, ex junkie with kohl rimmed eyes and a wonderful air of vulnerability, who doesn’t enjoy being Mummy’s favoured child.  Summer is an angry teenager who, when not swigging alcohol, sits and glowers.  In fact the whole household doesn’t wait until sundown before opening the gin bottle, apart from Daniel, who appears as if from nowhere and watches.

Howard Davies directs a tightly knit production, squeezing out laugh after laugh.  Not too difficult a task because each cast member is more than adept at perfect comic timing.  The scene where Nick, palpably embarrassed and uncomfortable, tries to make conversation with Daniel will stay with me for a long time – brilliant.  Vicki Mortimer’s crumbling house, decorated as a tatty shrine to hippiedom is pitch perfect and the accompanying sixties tracks are spot on.  How wonderful is it to hear Family’s Roger Chapman’s distinctive voice again?

As you can probably gather, I loved it and if I were giving out stars I’d go for five!

The Doctor's Dilemma at The Lyttleton

Due to the Olympic panic surrounding travelling to and around London last night, our earlier departure meant we arrived at The National somewhat earlier than normal;  five pm to be exact.  But, no matter, there is always something to do or see in this wonderful space and the absence of a rushed drive meant the minimum of stress.  A plus, because, even though last night the stage at The Lyttleton was littered with the medical profession, there wasn’t one of the Doctors I would trust with diagnosing or treating anything!  Which was obviously one of the points Bernard Shaw was making when he wrote the play in 1906, as a challenge from his friend, the theatre critic, William Archer, to write a tragedy involving death. In fact the play, The Doctor’s Dilemma, turned out to be a comedy with the subtitle of “A Tragedy”.

The play centres around Sir Colenso Ridgeon a much feted surgeon who has discovered a new inoculation against TB.  The beautiful Jennifer Dubedat begs him to save her artist husband’s life, but Ridgeon has a problem in that he can only cure a small number of patients.  When he discovers that Louis Dubedat is an out and out scoundrel and that he himself has fallen in love with Mrs. Dubedat, his dilemma is whether he uses his skill to cure the artist or a worthy fellow doctor.

Thus Shaw, in highlighting a time when private doctors charged a small fortune for pointless operations, has produced a relevant play for today, when profit is often put before the patient’s good.  Ridgeon’s three eminent doctor friends, Mr Cutler Walpole (Robert Portal) Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington (Malcolm Sinclair) and Sir Patrick Cullen (David Calder), although perpetually sending up their self-important characters, just about manage not to slip into caricature and provide Act One with plenty of laughs.  Malcolm Sinclair is particularly funny, despite mercilessly hamming it up.

Genevieve O’Reilly makes a worthy Jennifer Dubedat and leaves us in no doubt that she adores her feckless husband, but she is somewhat lacking in the facial acting department.  Nevertheless she kind of makes up for that when partially disrobed in Act Two;  the actress has an amazing figure!!  Tom Burke’s Louis Dubedat on the other hand is excellent.  He makes us ultimately like a dislikeable rogue which is no mean feat.  Actually there is no weak link in the whole cast, although for me the acting honours ultimately belong to Aden Gillett as the self-satisfying Sir Colenso Ridgeon.  When he looks at himself in the mirror and smooths down his hair before admitting Mrs Dubedat into his consulting room, we are in no doubt that this is a vain, although ultimately tragic man.  He is about to sacrifice his professional conscience to his physical desire.

Peter McKintosh’s sumptuous design and Neil Austin’s atmospheric lighting cannot be faulted.  They perfectly highlight the differences between the affluence of a private medical practice and poverty of Dubedat’s artist studio.  Meanwhile Nadia Fall’s direction is spot on.

If only Mr Shaw had had more of an idea as to how to conclude the play. Then the prognosis would be even more positive.