The Height of the Storm at Wyndhams Theatre

There is no doubt, Florian Zeller’s latest play, The Height of the Storm, is baffling.  One half of an elderly couple has died but which one?  Is it like Zeller’s previous play, The Father, where we’re seeing events unfold through the eyes of someone with dementia?  Or is the memory just playing tricks?  Is the female visitor really a strong clue that the husband misbehaved during his fifty-year marriage?  Despite scenes jumping back and forth and the uncertainty of whether or not certain characters are ghosts, these questions are answered, but they unfold slowly and you’re never entirely sure that those ones you’ve worked out are indeed correct.  Mind you, there is also no doubt that it would be extremely difficult to see acting of this calibre anywhere else on a London stage.

The couple in question, Andre (interestingly the same name Zeller gave to the main character in The Father) and Madeleine, are beautifully portrayed by Jonathan Pryce and Eileen Atkins (need I say more) and the play opens with Andre staring out of the kitchen window.  His bossy eldest daughter, Anne (Amanda Drew) is unable to get him to engage in conversation, lost as he is in thought or memory.  It’s when an anonymous bunch of funeral flowers arrive that a death in the family is registered.  But whose death, because Madeleine is soon seen peeling mushrooms for lunch.

The other rather scatty daughter, Elise (Anna Madeley) arrives and it’s clear that the siblings are keen to sell the family home, much to the fury of their father.  And no wonder, for Anthony Ward has designed a cosy, if cluttered, provincial, high ceilinged, French house, painted in duck egg blue and lined head to toe with densely packed books.  That books dominate the parts of the house we see is not surprising, as Andre is an eminent writer; or should I say, was?

One soon realises that the only person Andre really wants to engage with is his wife.  He is especially reluctant to meet and react to a woman (Lucy Cohu) a supposedly old lover of his great friend, Georges, whom Madeleine has met whilst shopping and subsequently invited back for tea. For Georges should we read Andre?

If this all sounds too muddled and complicated and not worth the bother, then think again.  The whole play is ingenious and incredibly moving and any fogginess suffered by the audience only serves to heighten Andre’s problem with memory and the beginning of his dementia.

It helps that the performances all round are spot on.  One of my favourite actors, Jonathan Pryce, hands shaking, steps faltering, is consumed with sadness and confusion.  At times awkward and autocratic, but always dependent, this magnetic actor delivers a beautiful nuanced performance.  And one that leaves us in no doubt that his love for Madeleine is deep and sincere, no matter what has happened throughout their fifty-year marriage.  The great Eileen Atkins portrays Madeleine as severe and stiff, yet another wife overshadowed by a very successful novelist husband (Jonathan Pryce seems to be the go to actor for playing brilliant authors right now).  But her subtle shift in the heart-breaking final scene when the hardness dissolves and we’re made aware that her love for Andre is no less sincere, had me grabbing a tissue or three.

  

I’m relieved that it’s not just me who found The Height of the Storm confusing at first.  It’s translator, Christopher Hampton, admits to having needed a second viewing of all Zeller’s plays in order to follow them clearly.  Likewise, Eileen Atkins, when interviewed, said she was rather muddled during her first reading of the script.  What I’m more relieved about is that I have had the chance to see Jonathan Kent’s deeply moving production that studies the pain of losing one’s grip on reality and being the half of one whole who is finally left on their own.

Antony & Cleopatra at The Olivier

The only other theatre production of Antony & Cleopatra that I’ve seen was in 1987 when Peter Hall directed Judi Dench and Anthony Hopkins as the middle-aged lovers.  It was a hot ticket at the time and will be forever in my memory as one of the best Shakespearian productions I have seen.  And now we have Simon Godwin directing Sophie Okonedo and Ralph Fiennes in the same roles in the same theatre.  There wasn’t a spare seat in view on the night I went and I’m guessing this version will also be a must see.

This is an epic production of an epic play that is at once a love story and political thriller.  Antony, one of Rome’s triumvirate, decamps to Egypt and falls head over heels in love with the Queen of the Nile.  This results in a betrayal to end all betrayals when he becomes head of the Egyptian Navy. It is a play about the conflict between public and private and what can happen when a great military man tries his hardest to prove he’s not past his prime.

Simon Godwin’s production, aided by Hildegard Bechtler’s lavish set, more than does justice to the size and scope of the Olivier.  He also cleverly starts the play at the end, so that our first sighting of Antony and Cleopatra together is with the former kneeling beside his lover’s body and awakening her with a kiss.  The sexual chemistry between them is palpable from the outset and who wouldn’t fall in love with a Cleopatra as dazzling as this?  Okonedo’s beautiful costumes don’t hinder her ability to seduce and Evie Gurney must be congratulated for dressing this beguiling Queen of the Nile in outfits that wouldn’t look out of place in the Golden Age of Hollywood.  It also helps that the fifty- year old (who can believe that) actress has the figure to set them off to perfection.  She is also perfect at highlighting Cleopatra’s contradictory nature and the fact that alongside her wilfulness this Queen has a keen sense of fun.  Act One definitely belongs to her.

Act Two sees Ralph Fiennes in military mode, having abandoned his Egyptian holiday gear which, unfortunately showed a little too much middle-aged spread.  He has also reclaimed his neck to some degree – earlier on his Antony was a little too stooped for comfort.  This is the Fiennes we know and love and he seems much happier in uniform (maybe relief at ditching the stomach flashing rig-out has something to do with it).  We start believing that Antony really has been revitalised by his “armourer of my heart”. Intense and full of purpose now that he is on the battlefield, we more than understand his ultimate distress on realising there is a major difference between the legend he was and the reality of what he is now.  His is a real living, breathing Antony, warts and all. Talking of battlefield, the highlight of this second half is the brilliantly choreographed battle scene; I have never seen one executed better. 

The supporting cast help to make this a stirring Antony & Cleopatra, especially the very amusing Fisayo Akinade playing Eros and Katy Stephens’ Agrippa. Praise too, to Michael Bruce, for supplying the wonderfully atmospheric music.  There are times when the effect is spine tingling.

This version of Shakespeare’s hefty tragedy beautifully captures the mightiness of war alongside an intimate love story doomed to failure.  Despite its monumental three-and-a-half hours and overlong death scenes, I can’t recommend it highly enough.  Mind you I’m glad I didn’t have a front row seat as, thanks to my aversion to snakes the real live one used by Cleopatra would have been too close for comfort.

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.

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.