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Friday 8 October 2021

Love and Other Acts of Violence (PREVIEW), Donmar Warehouse, ★★


Previews can be precarious and problematic. They can also be absolutely perfect, as the production settles down, ready for the official opening night. Some producers and performing houses hate critics reviewing previews, as the production is still trying to find-its-feet, and may yet be subject to changes. But I also believe, that if a production is selling tickets, however cheap they may be, they cannot stop any paying person from sharing their views. The only condition clearly being, that they mention it actually still was in preview, and not the final post press-night production.


Love and Other Acts of Violence was on its second preview at the newly reopened Donmar Warehouse. It’s a very brave choice to reopen with a new play by an inexperienced young Cordelia Lynn. 


The very fragmented first act was a difficult watch, for a number of reasons. Not only was it a detailed chronology of the intense relationship between Jewish physicist (Abigail Weinstock) and her activist Polish partner (Tom Mothersdale), it was also, as the play’s title conveys, a mix of love and acts of violence. But, sadly for me, it felt like I was still in the rehearsal room. The 90 minutes was presented on a bare wooden stage, surrounded by gravel and mud, with the short scenes interrupted by post-it styled thoughts or quotations, dotted in the dirt. I struggled to make sense of it all.


I yearned for an interval, and to be honest, doubted if I'd return. But I was also confused about the other actor named on the poster, Richard Katz. Was this going to be a production of two contrasting halves? Was there an unexpected twist about to drop from the darkness, and restore my faith in the Donmar’s reputation for new and challenging productions?



Without revealing too much, a much-needed change was delivered, which conveniently explained many of the oddities of the rather mundane first act. It wasn’t a wholly unexpected twist, as the seeds had been sown into the dark earth, which surrounded Basia Bińkowska's rather bland stage design. 



Mothersdale and Weinstock literally acted their socks off, moving and fighting their way bare-footed between the grit and gravel, and the wooden floor. The intense passion between these two troubled characters worked well, but then their darkest subconscious secrets, past lives and family inheritance crept in, bringing with it the conflict and confrontation. 



There is no doubting the relevance of the material being discussed between the two characters, which I’d argue was the main reason for choosing to re-open with this problematic play. But the fragmented rehearsal-room format never truly gave me a chance to get my much needed teeth into the material, or to release any true theatrical flavour, to take away with me. It was like flicking through the news channels, picking the rare bits of raw meat off the thin bones. 



The second act did manage to collect and collate some of those bones, but the production felt like it had escaped the intensity of the rehearsal room into an amateur dramatics presentation, with its tinned Heinz soup and equally tinny portrayals. 

Bińkowska's production design was saved by a more dramatic and much-welcomed change in the second act, but I’m afraid my concentration, patience and loyalty to Elayce Ismail's 120 minute presentation was battered, and remained lost like the quotes in the darkness of the dirt. 

Not the best reopening for the Donmar; a definite case of relevance over substance, fragmentation over firmness, and sadly, not much love or credible violence to justify leaving the rehearsal room.


Love and Other Acts of Violence (PREVIEW), Donmar Warehouse, ★★


Thursday 7 October 2021

Gwledd (The Feast) FILM, BFI / LFF, ★★


really wanted to enjoy Gwledd, or The Feast as it’s known beyond Wales. There were many reasons why I had high expectations for this cinematic horror soirée based in a remote, newly developed, house in mid-Wales. Being a fellow Welshman, naturally I wanted this new venture on the big screen, (already picked up to be distributed through Picturehouse Cinemas) to be a scenic success. I also knew the previous work of its writer-director team, who had produced hours of theatrical and tv drama in their native Welsh language, mainly for S4C (the fourth Channel in Wales)


From its atmospheric opening images of a rural landscape being raped by a ground-drilling machine, followed by the subsequent graphic punishment of the drill operator, (I assume was pierced to death by the deafening soundtrack), it was clear that this wasn’t going to be an easy or pleasurable feast.



The rest of the film centred on a supposedly ‘modern, newly renovated, unconventional Welsh home’ according to the film’s director Lee Haven Jones. ‘We wanted to avoid the clichéd traditional Welsh stoned building’ he added, at the showing of the film on the second night of the London Film Festival held at the BFI. ‘This house almost becomes another character within the film’, added another representative, during the Q&A at the end. They also mentioned it was available to rent, as I found online


I think this house was one of the main reasons why I didn’t enjoy the film. To anyone like me who indulges their passion for new properties by watching Channel 4's series Grand Designs, (and then goes on Twitter to view the brutally honest opinions of the audience on their architectural dream houses), this property was as horrific as the horror in the film’s blurb.



To me, this grey-black, brick-blacked, single glazed eyesore, with its plastic looking pine panelled interior, (which even boasted an open-roofed, darkened brick, chill-out prison cell) looked like a cheap film set.



The producers boasted that this property made the film, but it felt more like they made the film because of this property! After finding this ‘unique’ house, did writer Roger Williams and director Haven Jones come together, over a bottle-or-three of Welsh whiskey, and clobbered together the thinnest of plots, stereotypical characters, and an agricultural theme? Oh, and add in a bit of horror to make the ‘film travel beyond Wales’, as they wanted it to do. 



The other characters in the film weren’t any better; a posh, wealthy wife (Nia Roberts) who looked far too young to have two sons in their early twenties; Gweirydd (Siôn Alun Davies) the sadomasochistic ‘rapist’ weirdo, obsessed with his bike, health and beauty regime, and Guto (Steffan Cennydd) the black-sheep druggie of the family, banished from London to his rural Welsh prison. To justify his journey, the father of the family (Julian Lewis Jones) was the local corrupt Member of Parliament (sheepishly avoiding the reputation of the Welsh Senedd!) and living off his back-handers from the equally stereotypical and corrupt businessman, who also represented the drilling company, played by a comedic Rhodri Meilir. 



And then of course we needed the visitors, Mair - a typical Welsh farmwife, devoted to her land, husband and traditions, beautifully underplayed by Lisa Palfrey, which grounded the film, but unfortunately, couldn’t save it. The same for the ethereal quality of Annes Elwy’s portrayal of Cadi, with her limited lines and confusing presence. These two external but wholly crucial characters, gives us the plot of the story. Mair is invited to the feast, in order for the father and his financial side-kick, to try and get her to agree to sell some of her land for redevelopment. Cadi, the kitchen-maid come waitress, come general dogs-body, is the replacement of their usual help, on such evenings. A completely unrealistic and seemingly unneeded assistance for such a small dinner party, which completely destroys the whole plot!



This unrealistic theme continued throughout the script, from the special delivery of supposed luxury groceries like ‘bok choy’ (which I know is available in most supermarkets in Wales in 2021!) to the apparent lack of six matching wines glasses, or more than one ‘dry cleaned’ white table cloth! After all the fuss, I’m still waiting to see the aforementioned pak choy being prepared for the feast! The £10,000 abstract painting on the wall must have eaten up the crockery budget, although they were quick to declare how wealthy they were, over and over again.



Another unfortunate and unforgivable line and scene, was the return of Mair to the house she’d upsconded from in fury, during the feast. I won’t repeat this dreadful line in Welsh or English, but it’s the pivotal hook that this weak and wobbly plot, is based on, after the discovery of the house, of course!

There is no doubting Haven Jones' ability to create tension, although it does feel unrealistically forced in the first twenty minutes of the film, to try and save a weak plot. His cinematic vision is also impressive, and I'm certain will carry him over to much better material in the future. But for now, forget the fake horror feast, and skip the whole cinematic cliché; just go rent this property in the real beauty of Mid-Wales, with a pre-prepared takeaway and no invited guests! 


Gwledd (The Feast) FILM, BFI / LFF, ★★

The Prince of Egypt, Dominion Theatre, ★★★★★


‘There can be miracles, if you believe’ is a song I’ve long loved, but had never seen the film / show The Prince of Egypt, from where it originates. Currently in its last few weeks at the Dominion Theatre, where I’ve previously seen and believed in the magic of the musicals, this show tops them all. 



Visibly funded by the infamous animation company Dreamworks, you can easily see where this film-to-stage as opposed to the more popular journey from stage-to-film, gets its spectacular scenic magic.


As Lloyd Webber did with Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat and then Jesus Christ Superstar, Stephen Schwartz has followed with Godspell, his recently celebrated 30th anniversary of Children of Eden, and now The Prince of Egypt. I guess it was only a matter of time before the greatest story ever told, was turned into several  subsequent shows, without the clear parody of The Book of Mormon


To be perfectly honest with you, I hadn’t realised this show was based on the Biblical story of the Egyptian ‘brothers’, Moses (Luke Brady) and Ramses (Liam Tamne). We follow the story from Moses’ birth and subsequent escaping journey alone on the Nile into the loving hands of the Queen Tuya of Egypt (Debbie Kurup). Raised as their own son by Tuya and her husband Pharaoh Seti (Joe Dixon) it's 
not until much later in life that Moses realises his true identity and calling to save the Hebrews, through a series of miracles, finishing with the picturesque parting of the Red Sea.


There is no doubting the theatricality and dramatic value in the original Religious Texts, with the burning bush, the plagues, chariot races and the majestic presence of the Pyramids, giving director Scott Schwartz solid stepping stones to build up a striking and truly memorable show. Sean Cheeseman's 
choreography and Kevin Depinet's stage design and Mike Billings' lighting was as spectacular as the scenic projections, using the vast empty canvas of the Dominion stage (and beyond) to its full theatrical effect.


Despite this recent need to pump out the musical soundtrack to its fullest volume, (like the ear-deafening dreadful Waitress the Musical) at least with this show, I was able to understand every words sung by these clearly triple-threat amazing actors, dancers and singers.


Hidden beneath Lloyd Webber's continuing hold on the West End, and the ever-increasing stream of questionably cheesey Broadway 'hits,' that washes their way over the Atlantic Ocean, this is one real royal gem that deserves to be found and seen and savoured.

The Prince of Egypt, Dominion Theatre, ★★★★★


Friday 1 October 2021

Camp Siegfried, Old Vic Theatre, ★★★★★


When I finally arrived at a very cool, airy and spaced-out Old Vic Theatre, I was so happy, for more reasons than one! In my tired, end-of-the-week theatrical state, for some unknown reason, I’d convinced myself that this new play by American writer Bess Wohl was at the Royal Court, in Sloane Square. On my way there, I’d even semi-planned my opening gambit about my memories of the first time I’d seen a play at the illustrious Court. It wasn’t until I stood outside, and was confused as to why the iconic red neon letters did not spell out Camp Siegfried that it dawned on me, that I’d done a big faux pas! Luckily, as I like to arrive early, I just about had time to dash back-over the river to Waterloo, towards the equally iconic Old Vic. Not the best start to an evening at the theatre!.


Another curious coincidence, is that many of the plays I’ve seen this week have had a strong Jewish theme. But far from the emotionally charged, family tragedy of Stoppard’s stunning Leopoldstadt, Wohl's new play tells the complete opposite story of two young people, who find themselves in a Hilter Youth styled camp, in the USA.


Camp Siegfried is based on a real family summer camp located near the town of Yaphank on Long Island, New York, at the end of the 1930's. The admiration and idolisation of Adolf Hitler is growing, as is his political propaganda to create a greater Germany, and ultimately and ironically ’make America great again’.


We are introduced to the seemingly naive Her (Patsy Ferran) and her new friend Him (Luke Thallon), who are clearly flirting at a dance in the camp. While the Oom Pah Pah band is inviting them all to the dance floor, these two potential young lovers have other moves in mind. 


Through a series of clever scenes that not only conveys their ever-closer relationship, but also the changes in character, as she becomes visibly more confident and him less so. The need to create a new Ayran Master Race,  one of the ideologies of the Nazi propoganda, has clearly been pumped into the mentality of the alpha males of this generation. Her unexepected triumph over his bravado, is brilliantly conveyed by Ferran's subtle but powerful portrayal, clearly showing why she was awarded the Olivier for best actress in 2019, for her part in Tennessee Williams's Summer And Smoke at the Almeida. 


It was this ever-changing perspective and political awakening that I found so captivating in this stark but stunning production directed by Katy Rudd and designed by Rosanna Vize. At times, it had the essence of Wedekind's 1891 German play, Spring Awakening, adapted into the successful Broadway musical by Sheik & Sater in 2006, as these young ones explored all aspects of their coming-to-age journeys. It also shows how easily influenced their generation was, not only on their vaterland homeland, but also many miles away, in the USA. 


Her passionate opinions and vision of this potential perfect utopia, drawn from her research in books and her teachings at Camp, is scarily credible. The anger and hate generated by the Nazi’s towards the Jews, shows how easily influenced these lambs-to-the-slaughter, really were. 


Ferran and Thallon's portrayals and stage presence, on a pretty much bare stage, along with their perfect diction that filled every corner of this iconic theatre, is truly memorable. Wohl's dialogue and tightly constructed story is equally memorable, with just the right balance between emotion and entertainment, to take these two characters on a life-changing experience, over one summer in their lives. Unlike Leopoldstadt's straight-through 130 minutes marathon (which did cause a little discomfort to my derrière!) this powerful 90 minutes completely captured my attention and imagination throughout.

Camp Siegfried, Old Vic Theatre, ★★★★★

Tuesday 28 September 2021

Angels in America (Part One), NT at Home, ★★★★


Having experienced the disappointment of The Normal Heart last night at the National Theatre, I decided to re-visit another successful show, that I failed to see on stage at the Lyttelton Theatre in 2017, Angels in America. Thanks again to NT at Home, I was able to relax and watch the first part of this six-hour epic drama (in two parts) from the luxury and warmth of my home.
 



I first saw these two parts by Tony Kushner, at the Lyric Hammersmith in 2007, a few weeks after I moved to London. It was quite an event at the time, and quite a struggle to think about sitting in a theatre for close to seven hours! Since then, with other shows like The Inheritance, Harry Potter and The Cursed Child and Hillary Mantel’s adaptations for the RSC, these two-parters seems to be quite popular. 

The iconic, and much praised Angels in America has been a hit amongst the gay community ever since it was first staged on Broadway as two parts, in 1993. Unlike the ranting, fact-filled, drama-documentary of Kramer’s The Normal Heart, Kushner’s Angels has a warmth of characters that you feel an instant attraction too, and therefore far easier to empathise with. 


The first encounter is a mixed bag of scenes and characters to set the pace, and feel  of New York in 1985. A city where an unknown disease or virus is affecting gay men, by the appearance of legions on their skin. We are introduced to the hypocritical Ray Cohn (Nathan Lane) a highly successful and feared, bully of a lawyer, and self proclaimed ‘heterosexual man’, who simply has ‘sex with men’, and therefore claims defiantly he ‘…is NOT ‘homosexual’. 


Joe (Russell Tovey) is the second character we follow, a married Mormon, who works for Cohn, but cannot bring himself to accept the suspicion that he is also gay. Trapped in an unhappy, sexless marriage with a clearly unhinged, hallucinating, valium-popping wife Harper (Denise Gough), who also suspects he prefers sex with men, despite being more worried about the hole in the ozone layer. 


Prior (Andrew Garfield) and his boyfriend Louis (James McArdle)'s story completes this first act called Bad News, of a broader Part One named Millennium Approaches, and again introduces us to two loveable characters who are facing a fight with this unknown virus. Prior is a flamboyantly dressed, fabulous drag queen, who prefers to embrace his femininity over his dull male embodiment. He's in a relationship with a troubled, Jewish, administrator Louis, who also works at Cohn’s company, with the aforementioned Joe.


The second act, In Vitro, moves the story on with Ray Cohn trying to get Joe to help him save his career and reputation, by going against all of his moral and theological beliefs. It also introduces us to Prior's mother, Hannah Pitt (Susan Brown) who sells her home in Salt Lake City, and relocates to New York, to care for her dying son. 


Joe and Harper’s relationship falls apart, as does Prior and Louis', and this introduces us to nurse and long-standing-friend of Prior, Belize (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) who tries to heal the rift between his friends.


But the third Act, Not-Yet-Conscious, Forward Dawning is way-out, off the register of making sense. It starts with Prior coming face to face with his dead ancestors of the same name, one of which is reputed to have appeared in the Bayeux Tapestry. Another scene,  sees loopy wife Harper in Antartica, trying to make sense of the ozone! 



Nurse Belize has a long-rambling scene with Louis, which began to make me suspect that all American dramatists enjoy showing off their knowledge, ranting on political, theological and philosophical theories, for paragraphs and pages on end. Maybe this is why Red Light Winter is equally admired in the USA?


This mass and messy, confusing series of scenes, reminded me of Anthony Nielson's first Act of his unforgettable The Wonderful World of DissociaMy attention, patience and ability to take in this epic tale of these tormented souls, began to waver, as the past catches up with these characters and the lines between reality and imagination, good and evil, past and present become blatantly blurred. Too many ‘mad scenes’ and ‘talking nonsense’, as one of the characters commented.

The main problem with iconic, idolised plays, is that sometimes the emotion of the piece, blinds us to the weaker links. We forget these confusing moments and are scared of admitting we’re not sure what’s going on (or we don’t understand certain scenes), just because everyone else thinks they're great. Like the glossy and glitzy, expensive and expansive production of The Last Five Years I saw a week ago, I doubt I will ever see such a large-scale and spectacular production of Angels in America, as Marianne Elliot has given us here. Using her unique theatrical tool kit, and the powerful portrayals of her company, peppered with an amazing soundscape, music, set and lighting, this is the kind of production this epic vision and story deserves. 


I have no doubt that the crazy confusions in the third Act are completely necessary, as the unknown new Millennium approaches, be it in the form of an angel of death or a hope of survival from this sinister illness. In the face of death, they claim the past comes back to haunt us, or to help guide us over to a better place. Are we better facing it alone, or do we question our choices and repair broken bonds before we are unequivocally pushed onwards? 

One thing I did know, despite the confusion, tiredness and theatricality of the last three hours,  I couldn’t wait to see Part Two. Just not today. Maybe I could be seduced fourteen years ago with a few wines and a meal between these epic episodes, and the hype and excitement of being in a theatre, but these days, I needed a break, time to digest and properly appreciate what I’d just experienced. 

Angels in America (Part One), NT at Home,  ★★★★



Monday 27 September 2021

The Normal Heart (PREVIEW), Olivier - National Theatre ★★



Last night, the Broadway production of the hit play The Inheritance won several Tony Awards at the ceremony celebrating all things theatre in 2020. I was so glad to hear this, as the production I saw twice in London - first the two parts at the original Young Vic, then the transfer over the river to the Noël Coward Theatre, was an emotional rollercoaster, from start to finish. Matthew López’s play was set in New York, and explores the love between gay men a generation after the AIDS epidemic.
 

Tonight, I’m at one of my favourite theatrical spaces, the illustrious Olivier theatre, the largest performance area at the National Theatre. I was glad to be back, my first visit since before the COVID closure, and especially after my rant yesterday about the NT's unfair ticketing policy. When I found my seat, in the circle gods, I was a bit shocked at what I saw on stage. 


My initial rushed reaction was ‘oh, this play, The Normal Heart must be set in some kind of factory’ , as the vision I saw on stage, reminded me of an urban council-built setting, like the set for Everyone’s Talking About Jamie or The Commitments. It took a few seconds for me to realise that this was no set, but rather a new seating bank, in order to create a round theatrical space, as opposed to the Olivier’s normal semi-circular, end on space. This is what I loved about the original Olivier, as it was based on the glorified Home of theatre, the Epidaurus ancient theatre, in Greece, celebrated for its exceptional acoustics.  
 

My heart did sink a bit, as one of the delights of the Olivier for me was this amazing complex stage that has created some of my most memorable theatrical images. From Frankenstien to War Horse, or the recently experienced Irish landscape for Friel's Translations. I really hope this ugly eye-sore of a seating bank is temporary, as I’d hate for every show I see here to be in the round. Having already mentioned The Inheritance, my thoughts returned to the original empty grey-traversed-space at the Young Vic, with a large company to fill it. Another similarity is the theme of both plays, as HIV and tragically AIDS are key to both productions.

 

Originally written in 1985, (a year after the last scene of this chronological play), Larry Kramer’s play feels like a long rant-filled, fact-fuelled attack on the American Nation, by an angry young man, fighting his grief. Semi-autobiographical, it centres on a loud-mouthed ‘bully’ called Ned Weeks (Ben Daniels) who is invited by Dr Emma Brookner (Liz Carr) to use his ‘big mouth’ to inform and warn the gay community, of the deadly dangers of this new unknown virus, that was killing so many gay men, in 1981. 


But in an age where being gay was not as openly accepted as it (thankfully) is these days, Ned’s anger is understandably acceptable, to a certain degree. Unfortunately, the ranting never stopped, and became addictive, and eventually several other characters joined in, which by 2021, I found to be difficult to hear and watch. All the emotion of the piece was completely starved of any oxygen until the last fifteen minutes. By that time, for me, I was lost. 


Back in 1985, I can wholeheartedly understand how raw, powerful and political this piece was, to their generation. A film version was also made about 2014, and I can only imagine that this too, with its vast cinematic canvas, would have been a memorable watch. But by 2021, especially after Russell T Davies’ far more powerful recent TV series It’s a Sin, plus my recent re-visit to Kevin Elliott’s My Night With Reg, and previously praised The Inheritance,
  (all of whom had far more likeable, credible characters) I’m afraid this piece didn't excite me at all. 



With less talk of AIDS these days, certainly as a tragic death sentence it was back at the beginning of the 1980’s, and the rise in use of PrEP which protects people from catching the HIV virus, I felt the play had lost a lot of its power. I was only ten years old in 1983, so I only caught the fear of the epidemic through horrendous gravestone TV adverts and the ‘don’t die of ignorance’ warnings. From my cosy Welsh cocoon, I was lucky enough not to know anyone who caught or painfully died from the virus, well not openly known anyway. As all the tv and theatre shows named above recall, the fear and ignorance, the shame and the forced silence that accompanied this disease, especially within families, was as deadly as the virus itself. The emotional pain of the period comes from the appalling way these loved ones were treated, from deserted hospital wards to being bagged up and left outside by the garbage, as this particular play recalls.


Despite powerful and passionate portrayals by all the company, which includes Daniel Monks, Luke Norris, Dino Fletscher, Robert Bowman, along with aforementioned Carr and Daniels, I just didn’t enjoy the constant preaching and ranting, chronologically dictated, like a diary of a disaster. The majority of the blame must be aimed at director Dominic Cooke and set designer Vicki Mortimer, whom I can only suggest were trying to match the feel of a Greek tragedy, or the intimate no-frills flavour of The Inheritance. The dull, greying, bleak performance space didn’t help, nor did the lack of any soundscape or theatrical language to lift the dried dated dialogue, to assist a modern audience. The only true emotional stab came in the latter part of the second act, but tragically, like the virus itself, it was too little and far too late
.

The Normal Heart (PREVIEW), Olivier - National Theatre ★★