tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21300757471427398772024-02-20T11:11:17.463+00:00Paul GriffithsAdolygiadau Theatr / Theatre ReviewsPaul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.comBlogger417125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-19174944174529837522021-10-08T08:26:00.040+01:002021-10-09T18:29:49.445+01:00Love and Other Acts of Violence (PREVIEW), Donmar Warehouse, ★★<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJukL9rplWD1UXnDCoNkGGfxRDk0E_gw6L1R0J5cvBoKXrzMsJ42PJ4axx1EJiy61yEizz39dvVDQi1TojUlikJDVWccPmSBpmDxDvKHqnDUNGPv2rCdZ5ar8vBIBgdbwGik6I86HMEE/s1080/C8AE22DE-5E73-47A0-AC6F-2251A6EA3F2B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJukL9rplWD1UXnDCoNkGGfxRDk0E_gw6L1R0J5cvBoKXrzMsJ42PJ4axx1EJiy61yEizz39dvVDQi1TojUlikJDVWccPmSBpmDxDvKHqnDUNGPv2rCdZ5ar8vBIBgdbwGik6I86HMEE/w640-h640/C8AE22DE-5E73-47A0-AC6F-2251A6EA3F2B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span class="s2"><div style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s2"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s2">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 </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">previews,</span><span class="s2"> as the production is still trying to <i>find-its-feet</i>, 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 </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">preview, </span><span class="s2">and not the final post press-night production.</span></span></div></span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr1F6cauz7pnGa4gb-58xs6X0yhJfSpkcq_jh4YKOtbJwhX3iudw-XaAO02O2PW7pFqWBP8EcIs_0g47B6zlnSUufsPi8S4MddMwr1KyfLtN-vivHSfT0edBDfRhfncbcvWJ1VYyjXM3I/s2048/IMG_3671.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr1F6cauz7pnGa4gb-58xs6X0yhJfSpkcq_jh4YKOtbJwhX3iudw-XaAO02O2PW7pFqWBP8EcIs_0g47B6zlnSUufsPi8S4MddMwr1KyfLtN-vivHSfT0edBDfRhfncbcvWJ1VYyjXM3I/w480-h640/IMG_3671.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-family: verdana;">Love and Other Acts of Violence</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> was on its second preview at the newly reopened <a href="https://www.donmarwarehouse.com" target="_blank"><i>Donmar Warehouse</i></a>. It’s a very brave choice to reopen with a new play by an inexperienced young Cordelia Lynn. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnDlZbFA9M25icEjGXvALmjgls1BqXpd1-x06rz1ljZLKCe5_Hrk3KrUJITav-Q2sw7iABeP2-l2YWhKTXyT4P0DxbgRGQvN2oSZbfQG8u7pqntBFitM4DzJpGmRl7oqS4XgT58QMLvo/s2048/IMG_3672.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnDlZbFA9M25icEjGXvALmjgls1BqXpd1-x06rz1ljZLKCe5_Hrk3KrUJITav-Q2sw7iABeP2-l2YWhKTXyT4P0DxbgRGQvN2oSZbfQG8u7pqntBFitM4DzJpGmRl7oqS4XgT58QMLvo/w480-h640/IMG_3672.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s2"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawr4qknquygz-B5Zf8p55rO00i5_oD-vxys5ECZ67I4FsKyY-ima5GyVg1FtOCKFCfsG_aRJY4-9m-5Lw6-MqDvQNjl_mxB7ms2oc6cQ48xZIoS_hXltn8QR6SkJJmv3rQ0_3JVBX09s/s2048/IMG_3681.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawr4qknquygz-B5Zf8p55rO00i5_oD-vxys5ECZ67I4FsKyY-ima5GyVg1FtOCKFCfsG_aRJY4-9m-5Lw6-MqDvQNjl_mxB7ms2oc6cQ48xZIoS_hXltn8QR6SkJJmv3rQ0_3JVBX09s/w640-h480/IMG_3681.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;">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, <i>Richard Katz</i>. 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 <i>Donmar</i>’s reputation for new and challenging productions?</span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6c7yGLS1y7vGZK0sI1wMQWsMkOBAk8nFwrPUhq7pc0-yW6mXDELodBxE0WBwc1b4NG4v-_9nHKjas9tv6Iu7WLZlNaaLW2jqsv6_yElFF9L6VAAFX4Kc2fTS-M46l20bT5dw7m7zscWg/s1200/1D0AB462-C468-42CA-A651-DA5BAE42AA40.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6c7yGLS1y7vGZK0sI1wMQWsMkOBAk8nFwrPUhq7pc0-yW6mXDELodBxE0WBwc1b4NG4v-_9nHKjas9tv6Iu7WLZlNaaLW2jqsv6_yElFF9L6VAAFX4Kc2fTS-M46l20bT5dw7m7zscWg/w640-h360/1D0AB462-C468-42CA-A651-DA5BAE42AA40.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;">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. </span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQxSfCASuUF-7XA17njqpwRGTqQs98RpdcYcnpdvl7MBxqG7e5Tg68XPYoNn77rPdxc_iu86lO_oab-BCeSPteDk3YMdOJZOCiF-QOKtPRQMHapSwk8ELRPSFMWwsIF3AD9ObTu9A0oM/s2048/2084EEC6-B9A0-4229-93AB-7983BF8A6BCB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1364" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQxSfCASuUF-7XA17njqpwRGTqQs98RpdcYcnpdvl7MBxqG7e5Tg68XPYoNn77rPdxc_iu86lO_oab-BCeSPteDk3YMdOJZOCiF-QOKtPRQMHapSwk8ELRPSFMWwsIF3AD9ObTu9A0oM/w640-h426/2084EEC6-B9A0-4229-93AB-7983BF8A6BCB.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Mothersdale</i> and <i>Weinstock</i> 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. </span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xIYDiujbhUzaFe-S7GHAnL7dfaFYlJ0_zvv9Fnv_NftDIplSvD8mIWwn7R-Pgw5NA-xrewobojx-22HVmI-oab_U16KKlwfuCFV1QLf-ij7fJjsWk4oln3WgEbqto2Nu4UYHGGOoSxI/s1200/96463AD5-CA82-489C-AA2E-3B112EB42FF5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xIYDiujbhUzaFe-S7GHAnL7dfaFYlJ0_zvv9Fnv_NftDIplSvD8mIWwn7R-Pgw5NA-xrewobojx-22HVmI-oab_U16KKlwfuCFV1QLf-ij7fJjsWk4oln3WgEbqto2Nu4UYHGGOoSxI/w640-h426/96463AD5-CA82-489C-AA2E-3B112EB42FF5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;">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. </span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22UHKzrxBQQfo_INPG60kHdMLO7bFQIRlHHiBGJn96X_qidtjlygVKtShlJypvxZvm9RbGggqStBiFJGUxRSYBjvedCYgkCQfl6RCJOQSz2TGTxjAS4td0UCFmvI-5DemJtQCK87oD2I/s1200/CC9AC543-134B-48F2-B12C-E99B8F1DC98B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22UHKzrxBQQfo_INPG60kHdMLO7bFQIRlHHiBGJn96X_qidtjlygVKtShlJypvxZvm9RbGggqStBiFJGUxRSYBjvedCYgkCQfl6RCJOQSz2TGTxjAS4td0UCFmvI-5DemJtQCK87oD2I/w640-h426/CC9AC543-134B-48F2-B12C-E99B8F1DC98B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">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 </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Heinz</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> soup and equally tinny portrayals. </span></div><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Not the best reopening for the <i>Donmar</i>; a definite case of relevance over substance, fragmentation over firmness, and sadly, not much love or credible violence to justify leaving the rehearsal room.</div></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Love and Other Acts of Violence (PREVIEW), Donmar Warehouse, ★★</span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-69565845217762108552021-10-07T22:29:00.023+01:002021-10-09T10:34:00.570+01:00Gwledd (The Feast) FILM, BFI / LFF, ★★<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCmdHrYL4eNAS-i-CJqF1Z3M3S4GPAhBi5fvgfqT_p5LmscOsHN09_pyO38WhsUgwmmPoXsB8CJaRf87LCM5WDjD44CDTzdC02oSmjZLrqR1WLjl7HkmGqsi9JtX6rn-bm56PifMXdfM/s345/D22EB614-99B0-480C-875C-33A925E49D94.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="230" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCmdHrYL4eNAS-i-CJqF1Z3M3S4GPAhBi5fvgfqT_p5LmscOsHN09_pyO38WhsUgwmmPoXsB8CJaRf87LCM5WDjD44CDTzdC02oSmjZLrqR1WLjl7HkmGqsi9JtX6rn-bm56PifMXdfM/w426-h640/D22EB614-99B0-480C-875C-33A925E49D94.jpeg" width="426" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;">really wanted to enjoy <i>Gwledd</i>, or <i>The Feast</i> as it’s known beyond Wales. There were many reasons why I had high expectations for this cinematic horror <i>soirée </i>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 <i><a href="https://www.picturehouses.com" target="_blank">Picturehouse</a> Cinemas)</i> 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 <a href="https://www.s4c.cymru/cy/" target="_blank">S4C</a> (the fourth Channel in Wales)</span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tJKwzoH2glwtNh9LWjDFebOJ2nNj2ycX_JUEgVN0njIRByZZJH4f2T5TIIO1CYiEiLBIkLdqvoC3Pmj41BCCZnxknnDC-hWMNn3lt0c0VYRQvHYP9efb2FGKXJVGE6ljCoZv8WYYd_Y/s343/1F9F656F-CBA4-4461-985E-0DF2C34D4860.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="147" data-original-width="343" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tJKwzoH2glwtNh9LWjDFebOJ2nNj2ycX_JUEgVN0njIRByZZJH4f2T5TIIO1CYiEiLBIkLdqvoC3Pmj41BCCZnxknnDC-hWMNn3lt0c0VYRQvHYP9efb2FGKXJVGE6ljCoZv8WYYd_Y/w640-h274/1F9F656F-CBA4-4461-985E-0DF2C34D4860.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;">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>(I assume was pierced to death by the deafening soundtrack),</i> it was clear that this wasn’t going to be an easy or pleasurable feast.</span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="s2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQQDK2boD0TAZ69RxQXv-Ri_bGSQuNxAVvrxX6-YdlFzT1kWesBJ1Bmm3-5lEcv3cXE6NO85UGtc65eFN-UnfW6_XyrOlh6xf1aLqpnP4L_tIeVnymCOs1rFK24bOy0JqUoU7pv5WqXs/s1301/76215C7F-41F9-49F4-8C65-233F42315B57.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="1301" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQQDK2boD0TAZ69RxQXv-Ri_bGSQuNxAVvrxX6-YdlFzT1kWesBJ1Bmm3-5lEcv3cXE6NO85UGtc65eFN-UnfW6_XyrOlh6xf1aLqpnP4L_tIeVnymCOs1rFK24bOy0JqUoU7pv5WqXs/w640-h394/76215C7F-41F9-49F4-8C65-233F42315B57.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The rest of the film centred on a supposedly </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">‘modern, newly renovated, unconventional Welsh home’ </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">according to the film’s director Lee Haven Jones. </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">‘We wanted to avoid the clichéd traditional Welsh stoned building’</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> he added, at the showing of the film on the second night of the <a href="https://www.lff.org.uk" target="_blank">London Film Festival</a> held at the BFI. ‘</span><i style="font-family: verdana;">This house almost becomes another character within the film’, </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">added another representative, during the Q&A at the end. They also mentioned it was available to rent, as I found <a href="https://hostunusual.com/categories/host-unusual/life-house/" target="_blank">online</a>! </span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTNh3kGG63fLarOqtOqAaUzh2NP6AdPNouTlxeW8R2f7bmAN94Je5rurjEKii4hltvX_8oOvxOK4AMUqgFFZ-Vttm5ZF8xORvZZZ2aR25-XS4lEyVquYT9dvRg6wYqozRffmlon1PXEw/s1376/54DE94E7-3644-4215-9554-555F82E8941F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="1376" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTNh3kGG63fLarOqtOqAaUzh2NP6AdPNouTlxeW8R2f7bmAN94Je5rurjEKii4hltvX_8oOvxOK4AMUqgFFZ-Vttm5ZF8xORvZZZ2aR25-XS4lEyVquYT9dvRg6wYqozRffmlon1PXEw/w640-h374/54DE94E7-3644-4215-9554-555F82E8941F.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;">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 <a href="https://www.channel4.com/programmes/grand-designs" target="_blank">Channel 4's series Grand Designs</a>, (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.</span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="s2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8I2aoQ5Hn36HeuW7huDFYNvqF6QDUuI77ApBqe-6DhkGLcpYqV7b8zaD8Cb5Q_6ADj3phEI2QX_CI_SYtX2n9x-L3FwQv25I6s_-VoKa69eQolYcvKGClSXqfN1ieL3FCPTPnRz8prk/s1411/E792CD49-655C-40ED-95AC-8A47554ABA83.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1411" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8I2aoQ5Hn36HeuW7huDFYNvqF6QDUuI77ApBqe-6DhkGLcpYqV7b8zaD8Cb5Q_6ADj3phEI2QX_CI_SYtX2n9x-L3FwQv25I6s_-VoKa69eQolYcvKGClSXqfN1ieL3FCPTPnRz8prk/w640-h360/E792CD49-655C-40ED-95AC-8A47554ABA83.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;">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.</span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="s2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa7aK3Y64i-DAns2Ytzza5dBtwdMqHPFyicYmAi0U72L2ee6CN7mjlQS74mZ9pWLtY5qnwDG35-2tBUQVJT8KRihFQVlapsXYzwwHL9XibpvxSlj1LTTxn9shvd7-l8qmOOZi0eXGCso/s1403/B7FB3C3F-0C0C-49EB-9700-D844F24CC251.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1403" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa7aK3Y64i-DAns2Ytzza5dBtwdMqHPFyicYmAi0U72L2ee6CN7mjlQS74mZ9pWLtY5qnwDG35-2tBUQVJT8KRihFQVlapsXYzwwHL9XibpvxSlj1LTTxn9shvd7-l8qmOOZi0eXGCso/w640-h350/B7FB3C3F-0C0C-49EB-9700-D844F24CC251.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The producers boasted that this property </span><i>made</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> the film, but it felt more like <i>they </i>made the film <i>because</i> of this property! After finding this <i>‘unique’</i> 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 <i>horror</i> to make the <i>‘film travel beyond Wales’,</i> as they wanted it to do. </span></span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3byuMLZ6aBvlI7v6lSD137j5QbPPyaI2RLh_v7FuQyJBuEPZxKjoL6E-xh8hVM2PKHswLFeJKekdQYSlJOpjb40MnPBZ4w6ZnyC74aHJ_k895r1LuJIr_upQRYpRPBf3hh2wvEnRtB94/s768/5805B8BD-FB35-47B3-A4CA-00734D8E0E7A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="768" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3byuMLZ6aBvlI7v6lSD137j5QbPPyaI2RLh_v7FuQyJBuEPZxKjoL6E-xh8hVM2PKHswLFeJKekdQYSlJOpjb40MnPBZ4w6ZnyC74aHJ_k895r1LuJIr_upQRYpRPBf3hh2wvEnRtB94/w640-h426/5805B8BD-FB35-47B3-A4CA-00734D8E0E7A.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;">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; <i>Gweirydd</i> (Siôn Alun Davies) the sadomasochistic <i>‘rapist’</i> weirdo, obsessed with his bike, health and beauty regime, and <i>Guto</i> (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 <i>Senedd</i>!) 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. </span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="s2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQWm6T6oTesUHLs4rkcDSEJzrTEP6MZ45yxh_CTmOdUQuHBuyjpxct2ocRSXaiBCGsI9w1a4VmxmHRPnqebdrcfFMlOs3syHcilosSIrd7e7TkdXCOAASNX963LjhCsQta98sTF8HWFs/s1280/2B045536-7F66-44BF-AE4C-8CDDF3DB90A5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQWm6T6oTesUHLs4rkcDSEJzrTEP6MZ45yxh_CTmOdUQuHBuyjpxct2ocRSXaiBCGsI9w1a4VmxmHRPnqebdrcfFMlOs3syHcilosSIrd7e7TkdXCOAASNX963LjhCsQta98sTF8HWFs/w640-h360/2B045536-7F66-44BF-AE4C-8CDDF3DB90A5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span class="s2"><br /></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then of course we needed the visitors, <i>Mair</i> - 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 <i>Cadi</i>, with her limited lines and confusing presence. These two external but wholly crucial characters, gives us the plot of the story. <i>Mair</i> 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. <i>Cadi</i>, 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!</span></span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe61rc-51DXevhUvkA_ZWdIFYOO0USGDSwFNIEYHaE2Lt_zi6QmkmpCaN97i2_sATpKwfxhSHH8cZrH0Y45QmfR8KCanPI7h_k_YiKb8KRnpoPkVne-yOc6TvgpGhJqhNa3kNsPXnecs4/s768/2F8A87B4-BF2C-470A-987D-896944A19C7D.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="768" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe61rc-51DXevhUvkA_ZWdIFYOO0USGDSwFNIEYHaE2Lt_zi6QmkmpCaN97i2_sATpKwfxhSHH8cZrH0Y45QmfR8KCanPI7h_k_YiKb8KRnpoPkVne-yOc6TvgpGhJqhNa3kNsPXnecs4/w640-h360/2F8A87B4-BF2C-470A-987D-896944A19C7D.png" width="640" /></a></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This unrealistic theme continued throughout the script, from the special delivery of supposed luxury groceries like <i>‘bok choy’</i> (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 <i>‘dry cleaned’</i> white table cloth! After all the fuss, I’m still waiting to see the aforementioned <i>pak choy</i> 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.</span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="s2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnV71VV4biemq3ZqDpCdz88NYEqawWvqbIyh57UMP41GSHjSA0Nc7HY79lIO9t93EL5VP57LKsg99zqVABPFoPaD71PqtCocBcz_jWIbC6rSPcouR39En6kRBrD9D1NoDQza4IkBAULQ/s1280/48335602-1F2C-4D41-ABEF-23DD5B6A5F4C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnV71VV4biemq3ZqDpCdz88NYEqawWvqbIyh57UMP41GSHjSA0Nc7HY79lIO9t93EL5VP57LKsg99zqVABPFoPaD71PqtCocBcz_jWIbC6rSPcouR39En6kRBrD9D1NoDQza4IkBAULQ/w640-h360/48335602-1F2C-4D41-ABEF-23DD5B6A5F4C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span class="s2"><br /></span><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another unfortunate and unforgivable line and scene, was the return of </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Mair</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> 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!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: verdana;">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, f</span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">orget 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! </span></div></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gwledd (The Feast) FILM, BFI / LFF, ★★</span></div>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-82142614183326368372021-10-07T08:36:00.051+01:002021-10-08T10:37:00.775+01:00The Prince of Egypt, Dominion Theatre, ★★★★★<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTErV69m2vVESxORnKVvg8Qjy34BnSI32FJy6fHmGZtIkzHoWimYu0Z1lv42JHaUEpM560qQPfWQ0H88IIf6wDa-ApUcSOg8yJrh7yczFgRWlGHTW_jfPGXd7QthG64ca3JNhoS4fppgM/s1080/4580E792-922E-4DC2-A154-FAD1AF00BE8B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTErV69m2vVESxORnKVvg8Qjy34BnSI32FJy6fHmGZtIkzHoWimYu0Z1lv42JHaUEpM560qQPfWQ0H88IIf6wDa-ApUcSOg8yJrh7yczFgRWlGHTW_jfPGXd7QthG64ca3JNhoS4fppgM/w640-h640/4580E792-922E-4DC2-A154-FAD1AF00BE8B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>‘There can be miracles, if you believe’ </i>is a song I’ve long loved, but had never seen the film / show <i><a href="https://www.theprinceofegyptmusical.com/about-the-prince-of-egypt/?tduid=CjwKCAjw2P-KBhByEiwADBYWCoXmpnlCKaZnSYzLDhGqMhPYso0m9c6xOeEG004ePU8y5B_gM-8D-RoCtsEQAvD_BwE&gclid=CjwKCAjw2P-KBhByEiwADBYWCoXmpnlCKaZnSYzLDhGqMhPYso0m9c6xOeEG004ePU8y5B_gM-8D-RoCtsEQAvD_BwE" target="_blank">The Prince of Egypt</a></i>, from where it originates. Currently in its last few weeks at the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dominion_Theatre" target="_blank">Dominion Theatre</a>, where I’ve previously seen and believed in the magic of the musicals, this show tops them all. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT421kgEqBnPDRMc2D90gtkI480Tm2DwyhyQsmcASnm3B7ZaYP-zCis9xnv4OQ8HsduIbYWkaq2Spzj59hF-4NyNIdyJV4cNBcBBW1E92Q7ge2nlGBB3ZpTzGfrrCG2QpVZjsOSnh6B0g/s2048/C6DC98A4-C7E5-4758-90E9-65D8208631E6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT421kgEqBnPDRMc2D90gtkI480Tm2DwyhyQsmcASnm3B7ZaYP-zCis9xnv4OQ8HsduIbYWkaq2Spzj59hF-4NyNIdyJV4cNBcBBW1E92Q7ge2nlGBB3ZpTzGfrrCG2QpVZjsOSnh6B0g/w640-h400/C6DC98A4-C7E5-4758-90E9-65D8208631E6.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Visibly funded by the infamous animation company <a href="https://www.dreamworks.com" target="_blank">Dreamworks</a>, you can easily see where this <i>film-to-stage</i> as opposed to the more popular journey from <i>stage-to-film</i>, gets its spectacular scenic magic.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3w8IozC2PQxTNQ20w0_BZBYXAvFW6zf9H2_mpVf2sCbmBPfMtK_QkwpdNc8i056v1jJv0Nzb_ko45nqTJssoLF3QY1rEps778Jkm76uhjaSL0-I0q4MgA_WAVRfSk3_96-QsqB9GL45o/s2048/B1BEE425-AA45-490C-95E3-58382B37A8F2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="2048" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3w8IozC2PQxTNQ20w0_BZBYXAvFW6zf9H2_mpVf2sCbmBPfMtK_QkwpdNc8i056v1jJv0Nzb_ko45nqTJssoLF3QY1rEps778Jkm76uhjaSL0-I0q4MgA_WAVRfSk3_96-QsqB9GL45o/w640-h334/B1BEE425-AA45-490C-95E3-58382B37A8F2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>As Lloyd Webber did with <i>Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat</i> and then <i>Jesus Christ Superstar,</i> Stephen Schwartz has followed with <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2011/05/godspell.html" target="_blank"><i>Godspell</i></a>, his recently celebrated 30th anniversary of <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2012/02/children-of-eden.html" target="_blank"><i>Children of Eden</i></a>, and now <i>The Prince of Egypt.</i> I guess it was only a matter of time before <i>the greatest story ever told</i>, was turned into several subsequent shows, without the clear parody of <i>The Book of Mormon</i>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguru2wtGXklw5ZY3LKMrfQJO526TKCXUQc_qlHUeu0SR_cipNlhOfeSisorokv2YSBnAI-krOL3wGOGr3fRnAEWG9gevmMTiGIHxCF2xRo591ZdwLBuiUtZtAYVoxpy2_Q1eetsBkNQ3E/s1349/Luke_Brady_Moses_Liam_Tamne_Ramses_in_The_Prince_Of_Egypt_Photo_by_Matt_Crockett_DWA_LLC._ALL_RIGHTS_RESERVED_yh2fwa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1349" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguru2wtGXklw5ZY3LKMrfQJO526TKCXUQc_qlHUeu0SR_cipNlhOfeSisorokv2YSBnAI-krOL3wGOGr3fRnAEWG9gevmMTiGIHxCF2xRo591ZdwLBuiUtZtAYVoxpy2_Q1eetsBkNQ3E/w640-h426/Luke_Brady_Moses_Liam_Tamne_Ramses_in_The_Prince_Of_Egypt_Photo_by_Matt_Crockett_DWA_LLC._ALL_RIGHTS_RESERVED_yh2fwa.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>To be perfectly honest with you, I hadn’t realised this show was based on the Biblical story of the Egyptian <i>‘brothers’, Moses</i> (Luke Brady) and <i>Ramses</i> (Liam Tamne). We follow the story from <i>Moses’</i> birth and subsequent escaping journey alone on the Nile into the loving hands of the Queen <i>Tuya</i> of Egypt (Debbie Kurup). Raised as their own son by <i>Tuya</i> and her husband <i>Pharaoh Seti</i> (Joe Dixon) it's </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">not until much later in life that </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Moses</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> realises his true identity and calling to save the Hebrews, through a series of miracles, finishing with the picturesque parting of the Red Sea.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwaQg5BwkpOVuQhoyEruzCtDQE6iXfu3DTNf_mr0IYbHDp2SrIsFDnmWi9zfdr7Q04KJTc6_03Zb5kRYw3wxbcHQhQjv4T29jWoreWtFEXHFXNf5SNTp5yyxd8wNxrjIpJH4T-MHoVkg/s1024/F85B19B7-C4F9-4EE5-AD97-24576F2CE94B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwaQg5BwkpOVuQhoyEruzCtDQE6iXfu3DTNf_mr0IYbHDp2SrIsFDnmWi9zfdr7Q04KJTc6_03Zb5kRYw3wxbcHQhQjv4T29jWoreWtFEXHFXNf5SNTp5yyxd8wNxrjIpJH4T-MHoVkg/w640-h480/F85B19B7-C4F9-4EE5-AD97-24576F2CE94B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>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 </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2YsI_IBHotmXimp50jiZ9LP7u4odFSq7dFUlcw7oyYVDdLszuu_slnvD4FqM0bRoH_hanftvVj3z68hOzg1XZq8Ee25UT8cvdlqVeOik_B4V3ujH6QdqUqPpy4vVkDhYHUZlsjK61Ng/s2048/F335836E-DB1B-4FE8-B617-EA981840A249.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1285" data-original-width="2048" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2YsI_IBHotmXimp50jiZ9LP7u4odFSq7dFUlcw7oyYVDdLszuu_slnvD4FqM0bRoH_hanftvVj3z68hOzg1XZq8Ee25UT8cvdlqVeOik_B4V3ujH6QdqUqPpy4vVkDhYHUZlsjK61Ng/w640-h402/F335836E-DB1B-4FE8-B617-EA981840A249.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Despite this recent need to pump out the musical soundtrack to its fullest volume, (like the ear-deafening dreadful <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2021/09/waitress-musical-uk-tour-new-wimbledon.html" target="_blank"><i>Waitress the Musical</i></a>) at least with this show, I was able to understand every words sung by these clearly <i>triple-threat</i> amazing actors, dancers and singers.</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8VzXl9IZ5zo5K1nu0haUTxHTJbRQDqbBvSNXSkaHFQu5IevSYPFpW5PkTQ0VAzbOgH-EuMSS2KJ6P6w9TjooN9cNqX4FAUSc1hzdVMSrwosFxe3rK38evGYJAT215g1Ef5wFZW1kPzM/s1600/918E3B83-9394-4E43-9126-8FC7542E4DBC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8VzXl9IZ5zo5K1nu0haUTxHTJbRQDqbBvSNXSkaHFQu5IevSYPFpW5PkTQ0VAzbOgH-EuMSS2KJ6P6w9TjooN9cNqX4FAUSc1hzdVMSrwosFxe3rK38evGYJAT215g1Ef5wFZW1kPzM/w640-h480/918E3B83-9394-4E43-9126-8FC7542E4DBC.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Hidden beneath Lloyd Webber's continuing hold on the West End, and the ever-increasing stream of questionably cheesey Broadway <i>'hits,' </i>that<i> </i>washes their way over the Atlantic Ocean, this is one real royal gem that deserves to be found and seen and savoured.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Prince of Egypt, Dominion Theatre, ★★★★★</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></span></div><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-71780065526252357472021-10-01T12:38:00.016+01:002021-10-03T13:48:53.359+01:00Camp Siegfried, Old Vic Theatre, ★★★★★<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaa6YAdX1AaPYGcsx8DECMPnY0pLwjONABrXqfTArezyuJ-DWtKlBY49MJaimivZTtUbWtkrJZzrShRh6nO1QeQj7jFvQ38nyEzM7LqcrXjaCW8v7heER1NYNPP_if_rCmbCMdAB_8eq8/s2048/3312EACC-9DF1-43B1-87EC-C946A6B285A6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1355" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaa6YAdX1AaPYGcsx8DECMPnY0pLwjONABrXqfTArezyuJ-DWtKlBY49MJaimivZTtUbWtkrJZzrShRh6nO1QeQj7jFvQ38nyEzM7LqcrXjaCW8v7heER1NYNPP_if_rCmbCMdAB_8eq8/w640-h424/3312EACC-9DF1-43B1-87EC-C946A6B285A6.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I finally arrived at a very cool, airy and spaced-out <a href="https://www.oldvictheatre.com" target="_blank">Old Vic Theatre</a>, 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 <i>Bess Wohl </i>was at the <a href="https://royalcourttheatre.com" target="_blank">Royal Court,</a> 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 <i>Court</i>. It wasn’t until I stood outside, and was confused as to why the iconic red neon letters did not spell out <i>Camp Siegfried</i> that it dawned on me, that I’d done a big <i>faux pas</i>! Luckily, as I like to arrive early, I just about had time to dash back-over the river to Waterloo, towards the equally iconic <i>Old Vic</i>. Not the best start to an evening at the theatre!.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27UhCn_8YqjCpVptTnqkp2QJPbJFz5SNqqZFMSasdbbWG8dkQ-8_MZS88PTvI2rlpHMmHY3dYAUiZhPBOM9f-p-SU2fk-3MoXMTBUhTnT83AQL36X5gCZC1CNmPq_JUR6PpkLMJwPvLU/s2048/A25C33E1-6525-4098-9271-41FCAC6D6DE1.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27UhCn_8YqjCpVptTnqkp2QJPbJFz5SNqqZFMSasdbbWG8dkQ-8_MZS88PTvI2rlpHMmHY3dYAUiZhPBOM9f-p-SU2fk-3MoXMTBUhTnT83AQL36X5gCZC1CNmPq_JUR6PpkLMJwPvLU/w480-h640/A25C33E1-6525-4098-9271-41FCAC6D6DE1.heic" width="480" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Another curious coincidence, is that many of the plays I’ve seen this week have had a strong <i>Jewish</i> theme. But far from the emotionally charged, family tragedy of <i>Stoppard’</i>s stunning <i>Leopoldstadt</i>, <i>Wohl's</i> new play tells the complete opposite story of two young people, who find themselves in a <i>Hilter Youth</i> styled camp, in the USA.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKJgE1wQXw-oS5DPRFRXg7HX1aZVpf3UApGhoMvIU1bElGDWpyFrmSdVSv8VZFwscEb2ICR6GnIfWln-ymnEuwpWfgU5psoI7E2Jhks_GpMztbJ_ECqfoWKOLf7rsTC-P8z1nmE4vJ9A/s1200/573EAC31-3979-4264-80F4-B857E3FADA54.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1200" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKJgE1wQXw-oS5DPRFRXg7HX1aZVpf3UApGhoMvIU1bElGDWpyFrmSdVSv8VZFwscEb2ICR6GnIfWln-ymnEuwpWfgU5psoI7E2Jhks_GpMztbJ_ECqfoWKOLf7rsTC-P8z1nmE4vJ9A/w640-h416/573EAC31-3979-4264-80F4-B857E3FADA54.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><i>Camp Siegfried</i> is based on a real family summer camp located near the town of Yaphank on <i>Long Island, New York</i>, at the end of the 1930's. The admiration and idolisation of <i>Adolf Hitler</i> is growing, as is his political propaganda to create a greater Germany, and ultimately and ironically <i>’make America great again’</i>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f-ckT3XsmiXhYvGb-DzYkTZDOU_af18lGxJ5z-bsCGhqDV5DaTopHRtNr3aRwIwIhpuomeFR8rCwEiJ3zALGQiOn2an7N6QxYG_Qvw5WzKoC2E-VJh1v2G8FvzCXtqpbA7yDusUXq1E/s1200/884C7985-C021-4C66-813B-7C58352F49CB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f-ckT3XsmiXhYvGb-DzYkTZDOU_af18lGxJ5z-bsCGhqDV5DaTopHRtNr3aRwIwIhpuomeFR8rCwEiJ3zALGQiOn2an7N6QxYG_Qvw5WzKoC2E-VJh1v2G8FvzCXtqpbA7yDusUXq1E/w640-h640/884C7985-C021-4C66-813B-7C58352F49CB.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;">We are introduced to the seemingly naive <i>Her </i>(Patsy Ferran) and her new friend <i>Him </i>(Luke Thallon), who are clearly flirting at a dance in the camp. While the <i>Oom Pah Pah</i> band is inviting them all to the dance floor, these two potential young lovers have other moves in mind. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUfH_OTVxSlnD5kBVUBXelQEou7XPPdJ2yXn4-kFULPxAweEuI9o7L6owehtPkkol8Qlkqq9u69mUqOV5ttdjfICcK8Sn3Jj-hEW9fIXiwfGm9c_MU57kGPHqEyuXeGrOAHPXhXX9L68/s2048/DAF0C890-21AB-4728-9E6E-8FEE36E27F38.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1364" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUfH_OTVxSlnD5kBVUBXelQEou7XPPdJ2yXn4-kFULPxAweEuI9o7L6owehtPkkol8Qlkqq9u69mUqOV5ttdjfICcK8Sn3Jj-hEW9fIXiwfGm9c_MU57kGPHqEyuXeGrOAHPXhXX9L68/w640-h426/DAF0C890-21AB-4728-9E6E-8FEE36E27F38.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Through a series of clever scenes that not only conveys their ever-closer relationship, but also the changes in character, as <i>she</i> becomes visibly more confident and <i>him</i> less so. The need to create a new <i>Ayran Master Race, </i>one of the ideologies of the<i> Nazi </i>propoganda<i>, </i>has clearly been pumped into the mentality of the alpha males of this generation. <i>Her</i> unexepected triumph over <i>his</i> bravado, is brilliantly conveyed by <i>Ferran's</i> subtle but powerful portrayal, clearly showing why she was awarded the <i>Olivier</i> for <i>best actress</i> in 2019, for her part in <i>Tennessee Williams's</i> <i>Summer And Smoke</i> at the <i>Almeida.</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0eM-Ka1M13f5aHGGSEyjVzGVIvsArQchgiKI-oMrgLuGulJ8TnnBY6vTlictJikM4zDmAgL-UgOhkEGTMgB18seAEFHwWvTJAfroxHKB5ilKhGz_JG-yR0Pf3c6wSvt7QkRAO34mvGU/s1200/234989D8-DC1D-44CA-86BC-B2189801DC6A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1200" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0eM-Ka1M13f5aHGGSEyjVzGVIvsArQchgiKI-oMrgLuGulJ8TnnBY6vTlictJikM4zDmAgL-UgOhkEGTMgB18seAEFHwWvTJAfroxHKB5ilKhGz_JG-yR0Pf3c6wSvt7QkRAO34mvGU/w640-h416/234989D8-DC1D-44CA-86BC-B2189801DC6A.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">It was this ever-changing perspective and political awakening that I found so captivating in this stark but stunning production directed by <i>Katy Rudd</i> and designed by <i>Rosanna Vize</i>. At times, it had the essence of <i>Wedekind's</i> 1891 German play, <i>Spring Awakening,</i> adapted into the successful Broadway musical by <i>Sheik & Sater</i> 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 <i>vaterland </i>homeland, but also many miles away, in the USA. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12Mx9eCeXrrqGbWYb7YtjFN4KlBarZTWIEGNUTtEjzQbSqy2CgvB_nv7JALTX5bxMx6sJqTEsF43N3mVOhhL33SywMTPnoxAEaI5l0skiU50ScSEPjcIkQG45RIhvO9HyLmyOlQkzxWs/s1280/4F41B1D4-69E0-4720-BC36-6179383745E1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12Mx9eCeXrrqGbWYb7YtjFN4KlBarZTWIEGNUTtEjzQbSqy2CgvB_nv7JALTX5bxMx6sJqTEsF43N3mVOhhL33SywMTPnoxAEaI5l0skiU50ScSEPjcIkQG45RIhvO9HyLmyOlQkzxWs/w640-h360/4F41B1D4-69E0-4720-BC36-6179383745E1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Her</i> 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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpK68RcooZbUsATWKyBqy6vhStc5FXczmhjYQWqKNv81_15x5EU7SDaMO4a7azZL7RtCr6MHdvsuFoRsPynPnxrgFSOpD4ThJqTjTQhvZ5TNoHiarfE-JkAY7levRc1qbhNJWRYJbHJqI/s1200/B79F9414-071A-4443-B8CD-3588896593B2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpK68RcooZbUsATWKyBqy6vhStc5FXczmhjYQWqKNv81_15x5EU7SDaMO4a7azZL7RtCr6MHdvsuFoRsPynPnxrgFSOpD4ThJqTjTQhvZ5TNoHiarfE-JkAY7levRc1qbhNJWRYJbHJqI/w640-h426/B79F9414-071A-4443-B8CD-3588896593B2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Ferran</i> and <i>Thallon's</i> 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. <i>Wohl's </i>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 <i>Leopoldstadt</i>'s straight-through 130 minutes marathon (which did cause a little discomfort to my <i>derrière!</i>) this powerful 90 minutes completely captured my attention and imagination throughout.</div></span></span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Camp Siegfried, Old Vic Theatre, ★★★★★</span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px;"><span class="s2"></span></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-46003882555017805252021-09-28T04:40:00.056+01:002021-09-29T10:48:37.302+01:00Angels in America (Part One), NT at Home, ★★★★<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdM_WuhYYRS2dyxdcEQKSS7tVnnMAuFbh8QghJNDB3Lc6T2TuUByr0jVNJIUzrgTv_RrlbDF1y44_VobFTgPnSrjotkooKPMnSh-e5v5TcylfC-TZheihtOoNdB52YOX4l6TdshcasE6I/s1280/793726B5-4C63-4683-B93A-F1F0D9F4A302.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdM_WuhYYRS2dyxdcEQKSS7tVnnMAuFbh8QghJNDB3Lc6T2TuUByr0jVNJIUzrgTv_RrlbDF1y44_VobFTgPnSrjotkooKPMnSh-e5v5TcylfC-TZheihtOoNdB52YOX4l6TdshcasE6I/w640-h360/793726B5-4C63-4683-B93A-F1F0D9F4A302.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Having experienced the disappointment of <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-normal-heart-preview-olivier.html" target="_blank">The Normal Heart</a> last night at the <i>National Theatre</i>, I decided to re-visit another successful show, that I failed to see on stage at the Lyttelton Theatre in 2017, <i>Angels in America</i>. Thanks again to <a href="https://www.ntathome.com/products/angels-in-america-part-one-millennium-approaches" target="_blank">NT at Home</a>, 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.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NLN_ygOVYkPqoWUPIDM9i7r1cEGicYN7msPkOMn_WeVNRz2k_IzpzwOw_3Xnt7Xhg-zwvUyLedyUJ7-yDDOWWSf0TmfTZgmlPBoqVdLtwcT3mZsFMNDVMcxHWQq2kibTJ3zcww_deWE/s2048/93824A7E-2992-46E8-8B2E-57D4459DE725.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1478" data-original-width="2048" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NLN_ygOVYkPqoWUPIDM9i7r1cEGicYN7msPkOMn_WeVNRz2k_IzpzwOw_3Xnt7Xhg-zwvUyLedyUJ7-yDDOWWSf0TmfTZgmlPBoqVdLtwcT3mZsFMNDVMcxHWQq2kibTJ3zcww_deWE/w640-h462/93824A7E-2992-46E8-8B2E-57D4459DE725.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I first saw these two parts by Tony Kushner, at the <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2007/07/angels-in-america.html" target="_blank">Lyric Hammersmith in 2007,</a> 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 <i>The Inheritance,</i> <a href="https://www.harrypottertheplay.com" target="_blank"><i>Harry Potter and The Cursed Child</i> </a>and <i>Hillary Mantel’s</i> adaptations for the <i><a href="https://www.rsc.org.uk/whats-on/" target="_blank">RSC</a>,</i> these two-parters seems to be quite popular. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;">The iconic, and much praised <i>Angels in America</i> 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 <i>The Normal Heart</i>, Kushner’s <i>Angels</i> has a warmth of characters that you feel an instant attraction too, and therefore far easier to empathise with. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrAHw9Mb5vq5g5ZZ_eV2MthBjmWxISqsY0LceQU4tIEr8GGAn1GWkhTl4JTZ-rkJrWqMXhwikAxJRuASs1PrvYqST9fPTu_NWVjSDcHcivCxuvP85kYu3z2rOBsB8aG6IyCXJfhLS-cI/s620/A125B35A-4446-4B57-9C58-7E3F7A975A99.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="403" data-original-width="620" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrAHw9Mb5vq5g5ZZ_eV2MthBjmWxISqsY0LceQU4tIEr8GGAn1GWkhTl4JTZ-rkJrWqMXhwikAxJRuASs1PrvYqST9fPTu_NWVjSDcHcivCxuvP85kYu3z2rOBsB8aG6IyCXJfhLS-cI/w640-h416/A125B35A-4446-4B57-9C58-7E3F7A975A99.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;">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 <i>Ray Cohn</i> (Nathan Lane) a highly successful and feared, bully of a lawyer, and self proclaimed <i>‘heterosexual man’</i>, who simply has <i>‘sex with men’</i>, and therefore claims defiantly he <i>‘…is NOT ‘homosexual’. </i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4fOUiG8l6oHvrP1GhXBSUJ2YHvIPkW9MiLi-vHABm6zlVc4oAkvp_lKwHcKQD0ic8BDIe8PAb9PpC4LqKswwLXlh0qxvE2MmQ_0TmftqzD1EU5NCdYG7nF4yl_CUh93l2Rp2LrHWXyk/s1289/E2C977FD-C768-4ADA-8D83-5B053B0DEE6C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4fOUiG8l6oHvrP1GhXBSUJ2YHvIPkW9MiLi-vHABm6zlVc4oAkvp_lKwHcKQD0ic8BDIe8PAb9PpC4LqKswwLXlh0qxvE2MmQ_0TmftqzD1EU5NCdYG7nF4yl_CUh93l2Rp2LrHWXyk/w640-h358/E2C977FD-C768-4ADA-8D83-5B053B0DEE6C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Joe</i> (Russell Tovey) is the second character we follow, a married Mormon, who works for <i>Cohn</i>, 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 <i>Harper</i> (Denise Gough), who also suspects he prefers sex with men, despite being more worried about the hole in the ozone layer. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaeHu7JcL2FkGlgSrnoBJHnrLyOLJc6RoAcXWN0WTw7dSvLhP9b75z8bub4pZmzhSntlB_rcNZV2n3NmeAGieL4h1w_frcqgjWQXSvCPy-IX5JZ0RQuJehqWrBTO4HvdK4F-JWFzNxkc/s1289/95E728B7-BC73-4AB1-AC5A-F2D1C0DBD3BC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaeHu7JcL2FkGlgSrnoBJHnrLyOLJc6RoAcXWN0WTw7dSvLhP9b75z8bub4pZmzhSntlB_rcNZV2n3NmeAGieL4h1w_frcqgjWQXSvCPy-IX5JZ0RQuJehqWrBTO4HvdK4F-JWFzNxkc/w640-h358/95E728B7-BC73-4AB1-AC5A-F2D1C0DBD3BC.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Prior</i> (Andrew Garfield) and his boyfriend <i>Louis</i> (James McArdle)'s story completes this first act called <i>Bad News</i>, of a broader Part One named <i>Millennium Approaches</i>, and again introduces us to two loveable characters who are facing a fight with this unknown virus. <i>Prior</i> 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 <i>Louis,</i> who also works at Cohn’s company, with the aforementioned <i>Joe</i>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVOp0heGWkH4J22l7hDf2u2pFP68Pn2wePijggkjnxWe_qP-ZHZ7tjgTda8ORxh_HhxRkWcMJ_QavfwUHCE3CAOWeGif2w79wec0HjnDu9aXOlwHF6y0BJMGbxETsrRogaYRctJqGBE4/s1289/0D84A4C1-BB58-46F7-8B8F-4FF07333CEF4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVOp0heGWkH4J22l7hDf2u2pFP68Pn2wePijggkjnxWe_qP-ZHZ7tjgTda8ORxh_HhxRkWcMJ_QavfwUHCE3CAOWeGif2w79wec0HjnDu9aXOlwHF6y0BJMGbxETsrRogaYRctJqGBE4/w640-h358/0D84A4C1-BB58-46F7-8B8F-4FF07333CEF4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;">The second act, <i>In Vitro,</i> moves the story on with <i>Ray Cohn</i> trying to get <i>Joe</i> to help him save his career and reputation, by going against all of his moral and theological beliefs. It also introduces us to <i>Prior's</i> mother, <i>Hannah Pitt</i> (Susan Brown) who sells her home in Salt Lake City, and relocates to New York, to care for her dying son. </div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2jkk1QcHPorMfPmn1BfVrY5c3ljsxVdh0Aec7ATOvUY3nGVyh-B5rwFFB12KKPcKI_b7HrJ-zohVvDbr0cWLSMwmb5VLfffwc0nf-eUPdC9N3NxJ1asNH8JY8JR8re4n_Fa8w3mL8gs/s1289/ED9B140D-67B9-4DCC-81E6-01D76D2F0A7B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2jkk1QcHPorMfPmn1BfVrY5c3ljsxVdh0Aec7ATOvUY3nGVyh-B5rwFFB12KKPcKI_b7HrJ-zohVvDbr0cWLSMwmb5VLfffwc0nf-eUPdC9N3NxJ1asNH8JY8JR8re4n_Fa8w3mL8gs/w640-h358/ED9B140D-67B9-4DCC-81E6-01D76D2F0A7B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Joe</i> and <i>Harper’s</i> relationship falls apart, as does <i>Prior </i>and <i>Louis', </i>and<i> </i>this introduces us to nurse and long-standing-friend of <i>Prior,</i> <i>Belize </i>(Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) who tries to heal the rift between his friends.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YgQi12pjspBY08c212r45rtYAHVbhy9zAY4wxR1GzSg58vfCxTmoAb-rnswmInGgTZpIBhv-uAYjWuB_i7hfFwoB7cZs54o9jr_bo_k9RrxJ-8urldg9YkPh4YSCj2ReRFjmAqBHmMM/s1289/535C54F9-488F-4965-8DA9-1AE13F324CF3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YgQi12pjspBY08c212r45rtYAHVbhy9zAY4wxR1GzSg58vfCxTmoAb-rnswmInGgTZpIBhv-uAYjWuB_i7hfFwoB7cZs54o9jr_bo_k9RrxJ-8urldg9YkPh4YSCj2ReRFjmAqBHmMM/w640-h358/535C54F9-488F-4965-8DA9-1AE13F324CF3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;">But the third Act, <i>Not-Yet-Conscious, Forward Dawning</i> is way-out, off the register of making sense. It starts with <i>Prior</i> coming face to face with his dead ancestors of the same name, one of which is reputed to have appeared in the <i>Bayeux Tapestry.</i> Another scene, sees loopy wife <i>Harper</i> in Antartica, trying to make sense of the ozone! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDXQ1Znwd3nVp2RvQJRfA3QyX4MgbxQx8xNSuC0VPbK2fzg4KmsJZz3tOvMarTp23GImDuhOpPYNoXunOqU0MAHRu61_pVjhpd7asHv8xsnFzsz2uxcAJ9VoQ0se6_05xkxKtN0iG2Vw/s1289/8F552E16-BB65-4130-9364-AE85EA6C7478.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDXQ1Znwd3nVp2RvQJRfA3QyX4MgbxQx8xNSuC0VPbK2fzg4KmsJZz3tOvMarTp23GImDuhOpPYNoXunOqU0MAHRu61_pVjhpd7asHv8xsnFzsz2uxcAJ9VoQ0se6_05xkxKtN0iG2Vw/w640-h358/8F552E16-BB65-4130-9364-AE85EA6C7478.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nurse <i>Belize</i> has a long-rambling scene with <i>Louis</i>, 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 <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2021/09/if-i-havent-heard-of-play-or-its-author.html" target="_blank">Red Light Winter </a>is equally admired in the USA?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyraErnGbcdAGhna0agwCX4mfLS15QMYvp54G3b4WPtd9OI62jc3MxLfb0QpUVQZe4jTvCLq6-h45fjIVJV51mbQIXCg3fiNXYwMk69dAcZwyv1CwWy6K6lr_3jVDTR7sSQFLs6rzojXI/s1289/85301510-D69D-4B5D-874F-3016496D5A1A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyraErnGbcdAGhna0agwCX4mfLS15QMYvp54G3b4WPtd9OI62jc3MxLfb0QpUVQZe4jTvCLq6-h45fjIVJV51mbQIXCg3fiNXYwMk69dAcZwyv1CwWy6K6lr_3jVDTR7sSQFLs6rzojXI/w640-h358/85301510-D69D-4B5D-874F-3016496D5A1A.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">This mass and messy, confusing series of scenes, reminded me of Anthony Nielson's first Act of his unforgettable <i><a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2007/05/wonderful-word-of-dissocia.html" target="_blank">The Wonderful World of Dissocia</a>. </i><span style="text-align: justify;">My 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 </span><i>‘mad scenes’</i> and <i>‘talking nonsense’, </i>as one of the characters commented.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">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 <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-last-five-years-garrick-theatre_20.html" target="_blank">The Last Five Years</a> I saw a week ago, I doubt I will ever see such a large-scale and spectacular production of <i>Angels in America</i>, 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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQLMaOAGJpp1UFo79Cd17H-Qej8kFT3CLiq8THEY8I8Ox3vYTMTCwfmV4ceZpWTzmf-Ynbe7FvwvCPKO0MS55JIdd-0DlrgMCTutbxjuf5wn4QU63TwMF9xuWmsyXEYUVxU-zEaUDTqM/s2048/7DB53B7A-4EFC-4158-917F-042D77386808.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1223" data-original-width="2048" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQLMaOAGJpp1UFo79Cd17H-Qej8kFT3CLiq8THEY8I8Ox3vYTMTCwfmV4ceZpWTzmf-Ynbe7FvwvCPKO0MS55JIdd-0DlrgMCTutbxjuf5wn4QU63TwMF9xuWmsyXEYUVxU-zEaUDTqM/w640-h382/7DB53B7A-4EFC-4158-917F-042D77386808.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">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? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">One thing I did know, despite the confusion, tiredness and theatricality of the last three hours, I couldn’t wait to see <a href="https://www.ntathome.com/angels-in-america-part-two-perestroika" target="_blank">Part Two</a>. 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. </div></span></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Angels in America (Part One), NT at Home, ★★★★</span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cTQMSHWo2dQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="cTQMSHWo2dQ"></iframe></div><br /><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-33001140986310375082021-09-27T09:25:00.107+01:002021-09-28T20:15:21.404+01:00The Normal Heart (PREVIEW), Olivier - National Theatre ★★<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKysVrWE2v7JoAuvp5uAcvcYvnjfybgfbSKZUukl5D4FbaDJEdZPehXYKaXc1rje9Hp7CAqhPKmn5Y-jq_IgiQ8FQF7lEE44BQHUHOdCmOEUQ9iPjQcmubbIufZTIWEk8_GQKjU_hgzw/s500/96350832-5B7D-450E-A298-CCD9600EA5DB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdKysVrWE2v7JoAuvp5uAcvcYvnjfybgfbSKZUukl5D4FbaDJEdZPehXYKaXc1rje9Hp7CAqhPKmn5Y-jq_IgiQ8FQF7lEE44BQHUHOdCmOEUQ9iPjQcmubbIufZTIWEk8_GQKjU_hgzw/w640-h640/96350832-5B7D-450E-A298-CCD9600EA5DB.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 10.5pt;">Last night, the Broadway production of the hit play <i>The Inheritance</i> won several <i>Tony Awards </i>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 <a href="https://www.youngvic.org" target="_blank">Young Vic</a>, then the transfer over the river to the <i>Noël Coward Theatre</i>, 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.</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBR11ym1QyoTi5NJNKX7YDTbelb3P9nQ_fiWVAqrmXDLMOrQXR_v88v49Yuo7aZGQU6WAXGWxdTnIc2tzy0G6u8QY2urezAXm4tiZakoszy-xI4qCl0x-Xuv6IT_kWCc9mnqKRkfb4ZnU/s615/5D8B1215-57C5-4D83-B144-DC5D4BEBAB26.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="615" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBR11ym1QyoTi5NJNKX7YDTbelb3P9nQ_fiWVAqrmXDLMOrQXR_v88v49Yuo7aZGQU6WAXGWxdTnIc2tzy0G6u8QY2urezAXm4tiZakoszy-xI4qCl0x-Xuv6IT_kWCc9mnqKRkfb4ZnU/w640-h426/5D8B1215-57C5-4D83-B144-DC5D4BEBAB26.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;">Tonight, I’m at one of my favourite theatrical spaces, the illustrious <i>Olivier</i> theatre, the largest performance area at the <a href="https://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk" target="_blank">National Theatre</a>. I was glad to be back, my first visit since before the COVID closure, and especially after <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2021/09/under-milk-wood-nt-at-home.html" target="_blank">my rant yesterday about the NT's unfair ticketing policy.</a> When I found my seat, in the circle gods, I was a bit shocked at what I saw on stage. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JS7dmxDkR6IAQRZBuhXVDjtBsSmuIhYnnKGHls5lweLn8jgToEGYckPHYD8Yi0oaxyO1bjUEnVAklW4keBsCEtM1bbC8BX-Va-tvkRwvcJN4pvOron4YVtPkw2si4pOaW1s08VUCSaw/s2048/6F3B41CA-231E-4E10-9F75-2BDF050A77E7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JS7dmxDkR6IAQRZBuhXVDjtBsSmuIhYnnKGHls5lweLn8jgToEGYckPHYD8Yi0oaxyO1bjUEnVAklW4keBsCEtM1bbC8BX-Va-tvkRwvcJN4pvOron4YVtPkw2si4pOaW1s08VUCSaw/w640-h480/6F3B41CA-231E-4E10-9F75-2BDF050A77E7.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>My initial rushed reaction was<i> ‘oh, this play, The Normal Heart must be set in some kind of factory’</i> , as the vision I saw on stage, reminded me of an urban council-built setting, like the set for <i>Everyone’s Talking About Jamie</i> or <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2013/11/from-here-to-eternity-commitments.html" target="_blank">The Commitments.</a> It took a few seconds for me to realise that this was no <i>set</i>, but rather a new seating bank, in order to create a round theatrical space, as opposed to the <i>Olivier’s</i> normal semi-circular, end on space. This is what I loved about the original <i>Olivier</i>, as it was based on the glorified Home of theatre, the <i>Epidaurus</i> ancient theatre, in Greece, celebrated for its exceptional acoustics. </span></div></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvU_O7xBgr4gKTztBzIz-1IWz27Bu88SChNvGMoIGXw9eWEqFtM8ZeH63UQhDbt_rCTqFLYhaQcBnwgyvLPhFvlODNy8yXjh2AKkOOFc0uO63uVUoOAphefGcISPRPXkm_K-Ojgj3MmYo/s2048/8BA7FF65-B135-484E-80B4-C24D5D916602.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvU_O7xBgr4gKTztBzIz-1IWz27Bu88SChNvGMoIGXw9eWEqFtM8ZeH63UQhDbt_rCTqFLYhaQcBnwgyvLPhFvlODNy8yXjh2AKkOOFc0uO63uVUoOAphefGcISPRPXkm_K-Ojgj3MmYo/w640-h480/8BA7FF65-B135-484E-80B4-C24D5D916602.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><span style="font-size: 10.5pt; text-align: justify;">My heart did sink a bit, as one of the delights of the <i>Olivier</i> for me was this amazing complex stage that has created some of my most memorable theatrical images. From <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2011/03/frankenstein.html" target="_blank">Frankenstien</a> to <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2009/04/war-horse.html" target="_blank">War Horse</a>, or the recently experienced Irish landscape for Friel's <i>Translations</i>. 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 <i>The Inheritance</i>, my thoughts returned to the original empty grey-traversed-space at the <i>Young Vic</i>, 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.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></div></div></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2_W9P0MH3aP9q3r3xXt1QP3V8b-Maou0z9zfdsaYlIAxnBp6yE92mX12iLoqbnZRBLAAC9lnRV31VbCoBl-Nogc7Objy-gnQ4d3gsC-aXIepK0gnCNYyfISInIKlGabVq1MADUT1PnE/s620/C8F2AC3E-48CB-4B0B-9071-53846FEAE333.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="620" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2_W9P0MH3aP9q3r3xXt1QP3V8b-Maou0z9zfdsaYlIAxnBp6yE92mX12iLoqbnZRBLAAC9lnRV31VbCoBl-Nogc7Objy-gnQ4d3gsC-aXIepK0gnCNYyfISInIKlGabVq1MADUT1PnE/w640-h458/C8F2AC3E-48CB-4B0B-9071-53846FEAE333.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>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 <i>‘bully’ </i>called <i>Ned Weeks</i> (Ben Daniels) who is invited by <i>Dr Emma Brookner</i> (Liz Carr) to use his <i>‘big mouth’</i> 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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9zPqPDIMBmliUMoJU4AE2ReN1qy9eVv28njvKCJrb1wpfMFjtQtxuXUG78exi0WXHzmb_ZzY144a17f1MRkRqC0ILni1isY1I-_85gPuCs_S8P_vZ2_raAPsd8Zs6YJT_6_S2dUZP-U/s620/C56C45D9-A5E0-456F-8BE8-37CF18C02DA4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9zPqPDIMBmliUMoJU4AE2ReN1qy9eVv28njvKCJrb1wpfMFjtQtxuXUG78exi0WXHzmb_ZzY144a17f1MRkRqC0ILni1isY1I-_85gPuCs_S8P_vZ2_raAPsd8Zs6YJT_6_S2dUZP-U/w640-h426/C56C45D9-A5E0-456F-8BE8-37CF18C02DA4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>But in an age where being gay was not as openly accepted as it (thankfully) is these days, <i>Ned’s </i>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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTGdUvwo8ZgntfHGanr3b2dvkF_kygrNHFezljJVLHWvTgSops5Fuq92579Ex2PkABtdKmhvPOBUmx8_wswZDOJHwqu9oXfdxZCl9wQu0T3CioKL526kKFQtc8Sw8zzBKTCgThHSgYJM/s620/F6806123-17CB-48E9-ABBF-41B2C71D4825.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTGdUvwo8ZgntfHGanr3b2dvkF_kygrNHFezljJVLHWvTgSops5Fuq92579Ex2PkABtdKmhvPOBUmx8_wswZDOJHwqu9oXfdxZCl9wQu0T3CioKL526kKFQtc8Sw8zzBKTCgThHSgYJM/w640-h426/F6806123-17CB-48E9-ABBF-41B2C71D4825.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>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 <i>Russell T Davies’</i> far more powerful recent TV series <i>It’s a Sin</i>, plus my recent re-visit to <i>Kevin Elliott’s</i> <i><a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2014/08/my-night-with-reg-donmar.html" target="_blank">My Night With Reg</a></i>, and previously praised <i>The Inheritance,</i></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;">(all of whom had far more likeable, credible characters) I’m afraid this piece didn't excite me at all. </span></div></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNRaIPMId7KTTUi2J44gyLvslxbUM08Tk-0D4WgxCbmWI0-q0hTd67NT0W_fRUt6GVJe8Jk7vYBgRy_axuN3t_sp5hL0TYorVNjNOEJNwUARbB8Da7Bkv7NhSWp2kJlvq4Ym_tvPZ5rE/s620/8F98669B-29BE-4728-88A1-5C12D0DB64EA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNRaIPMId7KTTUi2J44gyLvslxbUM08Tk-0D4WgxCbmWI0-q0hTd67NT0W_fRUt6GVJe8Jk7vYBgRy_axuN3t_sp5hL0TYorVNjNOEJNwUARbB8Da7Bkv7NhSWp2kJlvq4Ym_tvPZ5rE/w640-h426/8F98669B-29BE-4728-88A1-5C12D0DB64EA.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;">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 <i>‘don’t die of ignorance’</i> 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.</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1u_qkAhPnSrNZOIGksAriNB5EiSKf02EL6qCL7Xk1fpihxd8hiwdbBtHaa99-byHkTkIbTnr0kYm5Lj16PaSx9ez3o0gLxpW3iWiGk1HfoW0hjkZnQXHo8Oh914YGXz9os63APGfsP0/s620/2C9DAC88-D7E7-4A5B-86D0-13BB83ABF2A2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1u_qkAhPnSrNZOIGksAriNB5EiSKf02EL6qCL7Xk1fpihxd8hiwdbBtHaa99-byHkTkIbTnr0kYm5Lj16PaSx9ez3o0gLxpW3iWiGk1HfoW0hjkZnQXHo8Oh914YGXz9os63APGfsP0/w640-h426/2C9DAC88-D7E7-4A5B-86D0-13BB83ABF2A2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></span></div>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 <i>The Inheritance</i>. 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</span></span><span face="-webkit-standard, serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">The Normal Heart (PREVIEW), Olivier - National Theatre ★★</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="-webkit-standard, serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div></span></span></div>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-67562277842024726802021-09-26T21:44:00.008+01:002021-09-27T13:38:14.016+01:00Under Milk Wood, NT at Home, ★★★★★<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;">As a proud Welshman, I’m always partial to a bit of <i>Under Milk Wood</i>. Those alluring lyrical phrases as <i>time passes</i> by each beautiful memory, of this sleepy Welsh village by the sea. So I was gutted not to be able to get a ticket to experience my fellow Welsh ensemble recreating this magical world on the Olivier stage, earlier this year.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjptV9pk92d5x1zsv4ahBf6-A2CGk1SvkjFSL0HGr15KE-QcL7G6CCoMfwhSPoH4yCCJJKXE1Smg8ddWHQrW-XTHcQ4Owm0jvLL7yRprxRUIs4rd1fFgQGj-zySSNZz8FJ-pTgzW5com0/s1080/29F8AFF6-5E9D-49C9-A3B6-20CF15974E1D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjptV9pk92d5x1zsv4ahBf6-A2CGk1SvkjFSL0HGr15KE-QcL7G6CCoMfwhSPoH4yCCJJKXE1Smg8ddWHQrW-XTHcQ4Owm0jvLL7yRprxRUIs4rd1fFgQGj-zySSNZz8FJ-pTgzW5com0/w640-h640/29F8AFF6-5E9D-49C9-A3B6-20CF15974E1D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">To be honest with you, it’s about time I had a rant about the ridiculous ticketing tiers of the supposedly <i>accessible-to-all</i> <a href="https://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk" target="_blank">National Theatre</a>. When I first moved to London, (nearly fifteen years ago) I always managed to buy reasonably priced tickets for the previews, or upper back seats of the Olivier. And I really didn’t mind where I sat, as I could clearly see all the stage from any seat <i>(take note Lord Webber and his production team on his <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2021/09/cinderella-gillian-lynne-theatre.html" target="_blank">bad Cinderella!</a>)</i> But now, you have to study the long-list of release dates before you can even attempt to buy one. By the time the company and cast, then friends and funders, have all pre-nabbed their allocation, (dependent on how much extra money they pay each month to gain exclusive access via the tiers), there’s hardly any tickets left, for the general public. Especially during the pandemic, when the allocation was halved at best. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It doesn’t seem fair at all, compared to other theatres who don’t receive a fraction of the Arts Council Funding or High Profile legacies of the NT, enough to have a theatre renamed after yourself! Bye bye Mr Cottesloe, hello hello Mr Dorfman! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There really needs to be an inquiry into these unfair ticketing policies, as they clearly do not work for all. Then, when you finally do get through, they close the sales, to force you to stand in a long daily queue outside the box office, (realistically from 5am) if you want a chance at getting a day seat. It’s doable for the London loonies (including myself (in the past!)) who have nothing better to do with their day (mostly students!) but if you live out-of-town, you can’t plan anything. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzveHoEE7ff3xicQ6iWThGz5namgf0x30eSbM6zGsUMlKlXSIj1nBiTzOAHwVZYDCDobO_yKAbD-81BZQBIClEMJurtrhn23lee3-VpPxZhPaxesdhqqy_6-Bq4NY2R6nRSaZLn-1ENNE/s1287/Screenshot+2021-09-26+at+21.04.29.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="1287" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzveHoEE7ff3xicQ6iWThGz5namgf0x30eSbM6zGsUMlKlXSIj1nBiTzOAHwVZYDCDobO_yKAbD-81BZQBIClEMJurtrhn23lee3-VpPxZhPaxesdhqqy_6-Bq4NY2R6nRSaZLn-1ENNE/w640-h204/Screenshot+2021-09-26+at+21.04.29.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, then you are lured into yet another money-making decision to buy a monthly or annual subscription to watch an oxymoronic recording of a filmed stage play, on your own TV at home. On one hand, it’s a handy option, if you don’t live in London, but the whole point of true theatre is to be in the same room as the actors, to experience the smells and sounds, the intensity and the imagination of the writer and director, live before your very eyes. Greek or Elizabethan drama never had access to such an option, so if you didn’t get to see <i>Sophocles</i> or <i>Shakespeare’s</i> works performed, then you were stuffed! Unless you could read of course, and unless the play was published, or you could afford the folio! But then a play is as <i>dead as a dodo</i> on page, as it could be on film, unless you do it with careful consideration, creativity and in conjunction with the original director of the stage production, who is responsible for guiding your eyes to where he wants you to experience the action or feeling or reaction. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLH6pLxNPQ15X3ImVLNTvgETU8p4F2e9KqSa8twZrre0NcwsXrdSKzvuYSQ82B4KavtY_5OjHskFNczWCfqntRMz5JiScCUGf6x6FdWBRuRaexXkrNItxad7GAqazYoNTIPuGOZhyphenhyphenJi_w/s1200/432AD91A-A6C1-40F0-A761-47865F2FBC57.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLH6pLxNPQ15X3ImVLNTvgETU8p4F2e9KqSa8twZrre0NcwsXrdSKzvuYSQ82B4KavtY_5OjHskFNczWCfqntRMz5JiScCUGf6x6FdWBRuRaexXkrNItxad7GAqazYoNTIPuGOZhyphenhyphenJi_w/w640-h360/432AD91A-A6C1-40F0-A761-47865F2FBC57.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyway, enough of my ranting. Despite my preference for a live performance, there was <i>bugger all</i> I could do about it, so I had to compromise on my visit to <i>LlaReggub</i> this time, and watched the <a href="https://www.ntathome.com" target="_blank">NT at Home</a> filmed version. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;">You need to place iconic material such as the words and images of Dylan Thomas in the very capable hands of an actor, who not only understands them, but can breathe life into the piece. The lyrical melodic mass of words from this <i>musical nation</i> needs to be broken up, caressed and delivered with care and clarity, to make them sing beautifully. <i>Thank the Lord</i> for Michael Sheen. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSKXEZWZsvvXkaa4fBzND2OcenZeOJQs_Ak2jyrba0BvCV-vmjmB30s-XP9YdgGvnVSNTlr1xMA23LvRtQwpndTJgfldydzf-w9VDTub0lPzrQ0sfyzdfQfAG_GhI1gR4dx_GGt-2Kbc/s1200/2DDD9978-A0DB-433E-B0C4-21ACB561F654.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSKXEZWZsvvXkaa4fBzND2OcenZeOJQs_Ak2jyrba0BvCV-vmjmB30s-XP9YdgGvnVSNTlr1xMA23LvRtQwpndTJgfldydzf-w9VDTub0lPzrQ0sfyzdfQfAG_GhI1gR4dx_GGt-2Kbc/w640-h640/2DDD9978-A0DB-433E-B0C4-21ACB561F654.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Bathed, if not drowned in his own visible sweat, this troubled ex-alcoholic and newly created grandson of the <i>Reverend Eli Jenkins</i>, in this new adaptation with <i>'additional material' </i>by Siân Owen, is absolutely spectacular. Spellbinding and passionate, as was his portrayal of the <i>Man</i>, in <a href="https://www.nationaltheatrewales.org" target="_blank">National Theatre Wales’</a> three-day production of <a href="https://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2011/04/passion.html" target="_blank">The Passion</a> in Port Talbot, which I was lucky enough to experience as many minutes as we were allowed to partake of, ten years ago.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvct5tIJngvFKHBMg3eGtZJy8DU8Zc9vrlLsYmEFpPfz2ggObfWxdP7DWFMW7kc0I1MNvoQ7ro-WzIVCOZ4ViV2l-A_rCuF2CUISnyHGNvgk1WVw5XYiZrhSiE8mef2McG7IMndqDi4c/s1200/52859213-1C2A-4ACB-BAEF-C7BD3219D6FE.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvct5tIJngvFKHBMg3eGtZJy8DU8Zc9vrlLsYmEFpPfz2ggObfWxdP7DWFMW7kc0I1MNvoQ7ro-WzIVCOZ4ViV2l-A_rCuF2CUISnyHGNvgk1WVw5XYiZrhSiE8mef2McG7IMndqDi4c/w640-h426/52859213-1C2A-4ACB-BAEF-C7BD3219D6FE.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">This production starts in a residential home, or a nursing home for residents with dementia. Sheen comes to visit his father <i>Richard Jenkins</i> (Karl Johnson) lost to this cruel illness. Despite his son's anger and determination to see and talk and ultimately seek forgiveness from his father, in this new opening scene, there were subtle hints of the original text and characters, cleverly conveyed by the elderly residents and staff. Through a clever device of an album of old photos and memories, Sheen desperately tries to awaken any kind of emotion or response from his father, who he fears does not even recognise him. Eventually, but totally credibly, enters us into the imagination of <i>Dylan Thomas</i>, as the original tale of this day-in-the-life of the residents of <i>LlaReggub</i> is reborn. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsuTH1XYpUk0hAoBngDLppZ6ggSQrMkozt6tsb0VlEYe4UrEX_g0BMNFpABSbxejO0Im7jzESfqf6DtH4VqNY1SG8D30Pr-ims13a_0_nw4TbIZGiOOKzJ7zdWAMMy1E6b8uI_vToSNA/s1200/BF8F195E-9936-4786-A960-5C90BAF11832.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1200" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsuTH1XYpUk0hAoBngDLppZ6ggSQrMkozt6tsb0VlEYe4UrEX_g0BMNFpABSbxejO0Im7jzESfqf6DtH4VqNY1SG8D30Pr-ims13a_0_nw4TbIZGiOOKzJ7zdWAMMy1E6b8uI_vToSNA/w640-h416/BF8F195E-9936-4786-A960-5C90BAF11832.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The brilliance of Sheen’s delivery and handling of the piece, made me see and hear and understand images and words, some of which I’d not registered before. It was all underplayed with a great passion, as if the son was simply telling a story to his father, about their family and the world they both grew up in. Sian Owen’s deep understanding and ability to pull out threads of the original material and tie them into today’s story and events, was equally successful, and added a much greater emotional connection to the material on stage.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDqbzb4JKHqWp7t2_Qn74XFUKgApIXXRba8dE0sxMR71kG88diP-mVNnqoEKDgzgR9zNF1RpwU_jXBsMy8n6htl5d5ViKT2zEKIoZ7VQCfx8JPY1i14PIbq7YbsKvs17HDzQ_K43uipE/s1200/1A018396-FBA4-4D80-B089-D5EAC7125A10.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1200" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDqbzb4JKHqWp7t2_Qn74XFUKgApIXXRba8dE0sxMR71kG88diP-mVNnqoEKDgzgR9zNF1RpwU_jXBsMy8n6htl5d5ViKT2zEKIoZ7VQCfx8JPY1i14PIbq7YbsKvs17HDzQ_K43uipE/w640-h416/1A018396-FBA4-4D80-B089-D5EAC7125A10.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Embraced by an equally ageing ensemble of characters, both real and then recreations of the residents of this village, the whole production has an air of fresh quality and vision, on this original radio <i>‘play for voices’</i> which has soothed and swayed generations of listeners. <br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"> <br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Led by Dame Siân Phillips and other notable Welsh actors like Michael Elwyn, Gaynor Morgan Rees, Gillian Elisa and Ifan Huw Dafydd, it was an unforgettable honour for me to finally see and hear this show, be it only through a second hand televised experience. </span></div><div><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Verdana, sans-serif">Under Milk Wood, NT at Home, </span><span face=""Segoe UI Symbol", sans-serif">★★★★★</span></div></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">(<span style="font-family: verdana;">but only <span class="s1"></span>★ for the NT's unfair ticketing policy)</span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /><span class="s1" style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XAo5w91G53A" width="320" youtube-src-id="XAo5w91G53A"></iframe></div><br /><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-52812236099734142962021-09-25T09:05:00.329+01:002021-09-26T10:47:42.876+01:00Relatively Speaking, Jermyn Street Theatre, ★★★★<div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBE593Gfl1n8mmIDCGSMs_W6xlzOc7ycNKZ9Ci2CTlxf39hTf-QwlHKj7WzdwP3oeLazjGp4rHvwWcTIHzkkOrKhtBnl2UbVEUEusAWTwQF96zWJNiaOKy-elRdqSIwBIflPwCTIcOj5I/s2048/668FEBCA-AC49-4A3D-8B82-F28DB4490156.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBE593Gfl1n8mmIDCGSMs_W6xlzOc7ycNKZ9Ci2CTlxf39hTf-QwlHKj7WzdwP3oeLazjGp4rHvwWcTIHzkkOrKhtBnl2UbVEUEusAWTwQF96zWJNiaOKy-elRdqSIwBIflPwCTIcOj5I/w480-h640/668FEBCA-AC49-4A3D-8B82-F28DB4490156.heic" width="480" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've visited a variety of theatres this week, from the grandiose <i>Royal Albert Hall</i> to the tiny fringe <i>Turbine Theatre</i>, hidden in the old redundant arches, near Battersea Power Station. Tonight, I descended the stairs, below the streets of Piccadilly, to visit the even smaller<i> Jermyn Street Theatre, </i>buried<i> </i>below the infamous home of the reputable menswear market, which boasts a <i>'worldwide reputation for high quality British artistry and craftsmanship'.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6D8mwDCWqjyScfNk-TdS4rcMNJMTcnDs3s0pm93dfK16zjtJc0ynILFht0DqYfvYrrzSx2ERBl8C-Je9ykj312C7J1Ymw69e-F5kdnrp5j7Re-DvNjZIZlhgRMwtYCwpxjcjkAoJNE0/s2048/77A30A92-4E1D-421F-AF34-43035106177D.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6D8mwDCWqjyScfNk-TdS4rcMNJMTcnDs3s0pm93dfK16zjtJc0ynILFht0DqYfvYrrzSx2ERBl8C-Je9ykj312C7J1Ymw69e-F5kdnrp5j7Re-DvNjZIZlhgRMwtYCwpxjcjkAoJNE0/w480-h640/77A30A92-4E1D-421F-AF34-43035106177D.heic" width="480" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The play I chose to see can also boast to have a <i>reputation for high quality British artistry and craftsmanship </i>as it's the first major stage hit of the acclaimed and celebrated British comedy king, Sir Alan Ayckbourn. I first came across his four-hander play, <i>Relatively Speaking </i>in a Welsh translation and production at the now demolished and much loved, <i>Theatr Gwynedd</i> in Bangor, North Wales. What I'll always remember about this particular production, is the reveal of the set for the second scene of the first act. I shall come back to this revelation, later.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Iq89n0dAvaKfy-gZj7EEYYoybtVTfxqiSIm8y2g_JP6urXCjQfv0jgibbrfmbbNadvz-qZ6Ank-K53AeG_CFVfcpZuAnnKJOCC7Yh-h9M4sCSOSuxYW_ZQjmK-ryJzKCJnSrT0J5smc/s700/Lianne-Harvey-Ginny-and-Christopher-Bonwell-Greg-in-Rela_Standard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="700" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Iq89n0dAvaKfy-gZj7EEYYoybtVTfxqiSIm8y2g_JP6urXCjQfv0jgibbrfmbbNadvz-qZ6Ank-K53AeG_CFVfcpZuAnnKJOCC7Yh-h9M4sCSOSuxYW_ZQjmK-ryJzKCJnSrT0J5smc/w640-h416/Lianne-Harvey-Ginny-and-Christopher-Bonwell-Greg-in-Rela_Standard.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The plot appears to be a simplistic one, starting with a young couple, <i>Ginny </i>(Lianne Harvey) <i>'a young woman with a chequered past' </i>and her <i>'current boyfriend'</i>, and soon-to-be fiancé <i>Greg</i> (James Simmons) who wakes-up in her flat, in London. Set when the play was originally written, around 1965, this gave the director Robin Herford and his set designer, the chance to introduce suitable motifs of the period to accompany the music, setting the scene perfectly. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Despite the extremely limited performance space (which resulted in the producers having to remove the first row of seating after they began to sell the tickets!) the flat they aimed to convey, worked successfully. The major problem of this play is that the remaining 75% of the production is set on the outdoor garden patio of married upper-class couple <i>Sheila</i> (Rachel Fielding) and <i>Philip</i>'s (Christopher Bonwell) home in Buckinghamshire. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsWM4XTGLuUnTClbBRo0P4qT-lbZuQJGOvk1ccL0tqKwj1k1HELfI3kjSGr3SO30expsxo-MDPwMwnq5EGoS5bP7YAuvI7hJ4UhoNTLJezZCL1WogetbHgRF2SBZDJTZZKuYue90eKY4/s1200/30488143-15B1-4D07-B84C-83118566024E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsWM4XTGLuUnTClbBRo0P4qT-lbZuQJGOvk1ccL0tqKwj1k1HELfI3kjSGr3SO30expsxo-MDPwMwnq5EGoS5bP7YAuvI7hJ4UhoNTLJezZCL1WogetbHgRF2SBZDJTZZKuYue90eKY4/w640-h336/30488143-15B1-4D07-B84C-83118566024E.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">This transition from a dreary small London flat to the opulence of the outdoor garden, will always pose a problem for any set designer, and despite this particular production's rather clumsy stage-hands-in-the-dark removal of props, and a bed that turns into border benches, it was successfully completed in full view of the audience. To return to my Welsh literal revelation of the garden at Bangor, it was quite spectacular, as the curtain was pulled back to reveal a whole plant-filled conservatory, which took my breath away, and earned several <i>"wows!"</i> and applause for the audience.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPnHBrmuz5fca9qzbK1pPjwit8lkQmHSTQ4uXb3zWjrvz7IgVK-OULP4nrW5xsHLPSo1PlsKKzXzgGivwG7K882NbgVrfvf8BT1wKrsj9iDX2NP34qEu2p9pnw2jJG_juRENNoWVFQII/s1024/06E2932D-4E12-44BA-8A53-48AF8F84BF96.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPnHBrmuz5fca9qzbK1pPjwit8lkQmHSTQ4uXb3zWjrvz7IgVK-OULP4nrW5xsHLPSo1PlsKKzXzgGivwG7K882NbgVrfvf8BT1wKrsj9iDX2NP34qEu2p9pnw2jJG_juRENNoWVFQII/w640-h426/06E2932D-4E12-44BA-8A53-48AF8F84BF96.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />The apparent simplicity of the plot then turns into a genius complex collection of miss-understanding and confusion, brilliantly conveyed by this excellent cast. I won't divulge any further plot clues, as it would ruin the experience, but I was again reminded of how clever this whole play is, carefully selecting just the right amount of words and dialogue, to make it completely credible and incredibly comic.</span></div>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The only unexpected issue that arose at this performance, was the imminent and rather embarrassing departure of one highly-offended female audience member, who was unfortunately sat in the seat in front of me. Throughout the first act, she and her friend seemed to be really enjoying the comedy elements, laughing out louder than anyone else at Ayckbourn's entertaining comedy. But something clearly triggered her in the second act, which resulted in her determined departure through a fire-exit, mumbling something about having <i>"had enough of this sh*t..."</i>, clutching her wine bottle and handbag, as she went. The only part of the dialogue that I can assume really offended her, was when <i>Phillip</i> was playfully and jokingly reminiscing about calling his <i>'daughter'</i> rather unfortunate names, as a child. Naturally far more aware with the dated dialogue in the rest of the play, my relaxed entertained ears began to listen more carefully, and there were other minor references to what is now viewed as questionably non-politically-correct office behaviour by older males, towards their younger secretaries, too.</span></p></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTre8bUn-KtfCCtb-WXhmB_R757R75vONSPOeebZ6vwyjSpOmJpCIuBF1Y1xJbvy1BMnqhmMvGggGnE_3tS5axEipLaRMUoLs023NW7Ki7ZUQCe3dyt07pyuVfxjaMyo3sDlZpFLgJWbA/s1860/E52973E2-EE06-4093-BE28-CF2709ADF3D7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="1860" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTre8bUn-KtfCCtb-WXhmB_R757R75vONSPOeebZ6vwyjSpOmJpCIuBF1Y1xJbvy1BMnqhmMvGggGnE_3tS5axEipLaRMUoLs023NW7Ki7ZUQCe3dyt07pyuVfxjaMyo3sDlZpFLgJWbA/w640-h341/E52973E2-EE06-4093-BE28-CF2709ADF3D7.png" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A rather unfortunate incident, which could have been caught at the previews. I do hope it will be remedied and removed before the next performance, in view of the delicate <i>Me Too</i> current climate. Surely these lines should have been discussed and amended at the read-through stage, as they clearly have the potential to offend.</p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Despite the additional drama in the second act, I really enjoyed this intimate interpretation of this clever comedic classic.</p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Relatively Speaking, Jermyn Street Theatre, </span><span style="text-align: left;">★★</span><span style="text-align: left;">★★</span></div>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-49775096473036071522021-09-24T10:38:00.002+01:002021-09-27T05:12:23.387+01:00Red Light Winter, Turbine Theatre ★★<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5a4-ojydUGKMod_O_Y-NM3o4_hPMu9bsLNBYHotqoe_pehpkdY92QIILYv5CGvMjuiWYqPEvkLbCzjCY9oPASkM9mqUV67jXyGMjQI81UxoASJTI2geSQ6vD53h_LPAkyrxhv5KQfdto/s422/Screenshot+2021-09-25+at+10.46.19.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="422" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5a4-ojydUGKMod_O_Y-NM3o4_hPMu9bsLNBYHotqoe_pehpkdY92QIILYv5CGvMjuiWYqPEvkLbCzjCY9oPASkM9mqUV67jXyGMjQI81UxoASJTI2geSQ6vD53h_LPAkyrxhv5KQfdto/w640-h630/Screenshot+2021-09-25+at+10.46.19.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">If I haven’t heard of a play, or its author, I will always give them the chance to impress, or the benefit of my dramatic doubt. Off I went to the <i>Turbine Theatre</i>, hidden in the arches, nearby Battersea Power Station, to experience not only the work of a<i> ‘finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama’ </i>but also the newly opened tube station, on the Northern Line.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCF_EmVxfpR8T0ujUjG60s58ENKldraywJB2bnNMfQmCfxjbMEYTCzMDpipPI0_3gFsrweqWCmQ6LSXU8uoOKQHYvKPpbvRZVTadfRT-zmWC1VYGZkrIDewv3ubylZn9oue_RB4vv7DrI/s2048/FCFD35D3-89F4-4DD1-A210-7534C2704A90.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCF_EmVxfpR8T0ujUjG60s58ENKldraywJB2bnNMfQmCfxjbMEYTCzMDpipPI0_3gFsrweqWCmQ6LSXU8uoOKQHYvKPpbvRZVTadfRT-zmWC1VYGZkrIDewv3ubylZn9oue_RB4vv7DrI/w480-h640/FCFD35D3-89F4-4DD1-A210-7534C2704A90.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first disappointment was the discovery that the new tube station was not connected to the main <i>Battersea Power Station</i> social-hub of homes and restaurants. That meant an extra fifteen minutes rushed walk (with no signage) to try and find the theatre. Luckily, I had previously visited this colourful hidden gem, so knew where it was, which helped, but the major disappointment was the unexpected and unplanned distance from the station, which resulted in a rushed dash, and a just-in-time arrival. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5BKkKWkoEsRUB5rQYv3-Lrvuq6Khh5tyC5je0Mu_exsAQcxYUCewnl7pI29TxUlDMrnqqMohYZduuxXoKhok_jL7NmSXVbD7v7Uzh-BQDh0dmWVjaKW3GJh1KMi7EuREdjGaRlff1EE/s614/E0E4EE13-BD36-4122-9D30-616FD45741DF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="614" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5BKkKWkoEsRUB5rQYv3-Lrvuq6Khh5tyC5je0Mu_exsAQcxYUCewnl7pI29TxUlDMrnqqMohYZduuxXoKhok_jL7NmSXVbD7v7Uzh-BQDh0dmWVjaKW3GJh1KMi7EuREdjGaRlff1EE/w640-h572/E0E4EE13-BD36-4122-9D30-616FD45741DF.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The second disappointment was the play, <i>Red Light Winter</i> by American playwright Adam Rapp. The play started in a hotel room in Amsterdam, shared by friends, writer <i>Matt</i> (James Burman) and party animal <i>Davis</i> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">(Freddy Sawyer). The play opened with a verbal vocabulary-fuelled vomit of ranting and American theorising which felt like an inexperienced author trying to impress. It was as unfortunate as the opening suicidal attempt by depressed writer <i>Matt,</i> clearly included to shock, without giving us time to understand why. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo18VgGjg05NM9yYyRXpTGa7HNlx5RvGzRWzRM12eHMBiFA4wPfJ619Lod0DAzpTFXsSankW27n__iycj2cgmv-GfciCF1OozroEaon-DSilcVnoEllZcAWpBwO6_eygjgwH4ubaRiCfQ/s827/CA1F3C0A-BBBB-460E-AD7B-A2E6BC37EE6F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="827" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo18VgGjg05NM9yYyRXpTGa7HNlx5RvGzRWzRM12eHMBiFA4wPfJ619Lod0DAzpTFXsSankW27n__iycj2cgmv-GfciCF1OozroEaon-DSilcVnoEllZcAWpBwO6_eygjgwH4ubaRiCfQ/w640-h506/CA1F3C0A-BBBB-460E-AD7B-A2E6BC37EE6F.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next unexpected and completely unnecessary action was the return of <i>Davis,</i> who immediately stripped naked, just to change his boxers, before getting dressed again. This clearly was also meant to shock, tantalise or even just to lure an audience, and to justify the warning in the hype of the play of the <i>‘scenes of an adult nature, strong language and nudity’</i> which always sells (especially male nudity, which seems an important selling point of all the productions I’ve seen at this theatre!) </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOcYcJtNf1UCk_JcJrhp9VttB2JomqM721X0-0YY8FL8fvWSEMQlg915L0mdvy8KcPg7LIoXlnzAycGDhqoU21CWb6bpcXBO9kBUdd8rDqVHaViS6S-U2kOwTpyfeTWBsheptEgnCZqA/s827/996245D7-6536-451E-B073-7331E34D3A86.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="827" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOcYcJtNf1UCk_JcJrhp9VttB2JomqM721X0-0YY8FL8fvWSEMQlg915L0mdvy8KcPg7LIoXlnzAycGDhqoU21CWb6bpcXBO9kBUdd8rDqVHaViS6S-U2kOwTpyfeTWBsheptEgnCZqA/w640-h486/996245D7-6536-451E-B073-7331E34D3A86.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The tirade of tiresome American ranting about everything and nothing, was a complete turnoff, which explained the need for the unneeded nudity. The major fault of such an opening was to create two characters which I didn’t give-a-damn about. Eventually, we were introduced to the third character <i>Christina</i> (Tian Chaudhry) one of the <i>‘window women’</i> of Amsterdam, who had been paid by <i>Davis</i> to cheer up depressed <i>Matt</i>, with her sexual seduction. Again, unfortunately, the amount of cannabis and cocaine consumed by <i>Davis</i> and <i>Christina</i> made the whole scenario unconvincing, and would have resulted in both of them just crashing and burning, as this play should have done, before being published.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68Yu_JZ3KpYi0EzjDvIy2lEInAgXNfgVybcR140GTQSNJqbKV-4jXk6G-8DU2WMgZ0NBmulerJlPWNZ-4GbBmPT32nbMD9ZQun7nFXe2sfq3pFr9gypnVbdPswVNGHiXjacd7NGkztUQ/s828/7DA40557-5A4C-42B0-8BEF-898C1417BF91.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="828" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68Yu_JZ3KpYi0EzjDvIy2lEInAgXNfgVybcR140GTQSNJqbKV-4jXk6G-8DU2WMgZ0NBmulerJlPWNZ-4GbBmPT32nbMD9ZQun7nFXe2sfq3pFr9gypnVbdPswVNGHiXjacd7NGkztUQ/w640-h454/7DA40557-5A4C-42B0-8BEF-898C1417BF91.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>When we finally got to the story, after the author had clearly run out of things to rant about, we then entered phase two which included a completely random unrequited love-song sung by </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Christina, </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">which may have been included to show-off the playwright's lyrical ability! The detailed critical song analysis that followed, by an apparently suicidal depressive, was again unneeded and just unacceptable, as was the whole plot of this bad-choice play to be produced.</span></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-024aI6x3q641NgwgffbEA1EAPd9TUSW49lN4RG5NEVv9f1LhxbbZVJdI91e2Bt4e4jJLwnMPmdiKbn4Q47w0YlQB3DpsM45_k4ahO14BHbOADNNi8SQacZL2KdiWmru4-gm8zg6l8Pw/s634/B8E205B7-13A5-4C8F-AACA-9DC89C643C59.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="634" height="592" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-024aI6x3q641NgwgffbEA1EAPd9TUSW49lN4RG5NEVv9f1LhxbbZVJdI91e2Bt4e4jJLwnMPmdiKbn4Q47w0YlQB3DpsM45_k4ahO14BHbOADNNi8SQacZL2KdiWmru4-gm8zg6l8Pw/w640-h592/B8E205B7-13A5-4C8F-AACA-9DC89C643C59.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Things slightly improved in the second act, but not enough to save this production from being critically slaughtered by my colleague and myself. It then turned into a play-within-a-play, with major plot holes involving timing, more out-of-the-blue cathartic preaching analysis, and a very uncomfortable misogynistic mess.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinjqzyzxIYN3arCt0nm6KYjroy63v3S889fHMGlRWbg6vuwMEX6H3nngeGTWK_4OpANua2aQ9wpAYA01nyEkXy-qcFvcidHhpnOLcdEXvTndZsHppPQIwSkX228E7Wioj5UABdRcdKyvw/s655/65C27B3D-9CE1-4DDA-9BC7-7626484818D7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="632" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinjqzyzxIYN3arCt0nm6KYjroy63v3S889fHMGlRWbg6vuwMEX6H3nngeGTWK_4OpANua2aQ9wpAYA01nyEkXy-qcFvcidHhpnOLcdEXvTndZsHppPQIwSkX228E7Wioj5UABdRcdKyvw/w618-h640/65C27B3D-9CE1-4DDA-9BC7-7626484818D7.jpeg" width="618" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Victor Lirio's production was flawed with faults, as was Carly Brownbridge and Joel Williams' set and lighting designs, with many questionable choices about layout, period and atmosphere. Artistic Director Paul Taylor Mills must also take some of the blame for the unfortunate choice of play, and </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">nudity</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> policy.</span></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">At the end of September 2021, I'd much rather have a blue Indian summer than this Red Light Winter, any day.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Red Light Winter, Turbine Theatre ★★ </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">(second </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">★ for the sincerity of the acting alone)</span></div></span>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-10491068502730835092021-09-22T07:47:00.001+01:002021-09-27T05:13:13.648+01:00Blithe Spirit, Harold Pinter Theatre, ★ ★<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;">They claim fame sells, and I can’t disagree. Theatre Producers have latched onto that notion for centuries. I was recently tempted to drag myself to Windsor to see Sir Ian McKellen’s <a href="https://theatreroyalwindsor.co.uk" target="_blank">current season at the Theatre Royal</a>, but I couldn’t fit his last week of <a href="https://theatreroyalwindsor.co.uk/hamlet/" target="_blank">Hamlet</a> into my busy week; but I am tempted to go visit <a href="https://theatreroyalwindsor.co.uk/thecherryorchard/" target="_blank">The Cherry Orchard</a>, next month.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I too, have certainly been guilty of buying tickets because of the actors; be it a few Dames like Maggie Smith, Judi Dench, Penelope Wilton, Helen Mirren or Eileen Atkins, and a few Knights like the aforementioned McKellen, David Suchet, Michael Gambon. There are numerous others that can be included, and no doubt will soon be honoured too, like Zoë Wanamaker and Imelda Staunton.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_7ahGG3keRy67wLC7Ueub8QHfGCRVmzVf-hVMVk01v_EKcQbB2ukMUKcpWD-0B44LdBBMtvlfs1LmxkHQdMaTwvhSDBhWlDhWjJDWfYRMZaR892DjfKRtMI7U1Z6KHG93Dg99p5Wlq8A/s300/9B2E83B9-D492-48D5-A3E9-04F1A989791C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_7ahGG3keRy67wLC7Ueub8QHfGCRVmzVf-hVMVk01v_EKcQbB2ukMUKcpWD-0B44LdBBMtvlfs1LmxkHQdMaTwvhSDBhWlDhWjJDWfYRMZaR892DjfKRtMI7U1Z6KHG93Dg99p5Wlq8A/w640-h358/9B2E83B9-D492-48D5-A3E9-04F1A989791C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tonight, it was Jennifer Saunders on stage, in a role that I was lucky enough to see <a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2014/06/blythe-spirit.html" target="_blank">Dame Angela Landsbury</a> <i>star</i>-in, seven years ago.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span> <span style="font-family: verdana;">Since then, Dame Judi has also appeared in a <a href="https://youtu.be/ug9dTP4KlDg" target="_blank">film adaptation</a>, so I suppose you can argue the material must hold a particular charm. When I first saw the hype about Ms Saunders appearance as the infamous <i>Madame Arcati,</i> (that all the dames seem to be destined for!), I did want to see this production of Noël Coward’s <i>Blithe Spirit</i>. To be honest, I thought this production was a continuation tour of the production </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I saw Dame Landsbury in, a few years ago. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnc6c0x2drtPT8PWNUIuo4-Z9td4wCAhVYNh8M7tczcHYPG4OnqiXPZ85u2MaG1yrwxI3LQ5RQdwLPIWcCVlvQUIeoyDQLXisjTklk0xZxJMtM1CA0fulA0N7AsL70F-Mz_lk9BdE-pts/s2048/31C7A3A6-7208-4176-A224-2935F83EB272.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnc6c0x2drtPT8PWNUIuo4-Z9td4wCAhVYNh8M7tczcHYPG4OnqiXPZ85u2MaG1yrwxI3LQ5RQdwLPIWcCVlvQUIeoyDQLXisjTklk0xZxJMtM1CA0fulA0N7AsL70F-Mz_lk9BdE-pts/w640-h640/31C7A3A6-7208-4176-A224-2935F83EB272.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The main reason was the unfortunate similarity of the costumes and poses in the publicity shots. But it soon became apparent that this </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">production at the <i>Harold Pinter Theatre, </i>directed by veteran theatre director, Richard Eyre, was a new venture.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3Z7-eeDtQShlE3D4FzF-MnecTX5SFIlAZ55NzCU-WTz_kHELWH3VYkpivK36MXXrx6J_aPyeNq_LMnMdyjOHMLD-FyluGL_Qsl9WsOztqd572Yu8gaKQtI6WOEq7fbhqkA5IeIOfwJU/s259/8E7D94E6-BC79-4929-878F-D09653C6221B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3Z7-eeDtQShlE3D4FzF-MnecTX5SFIlAZ55NzCU-WTz_kHELWH3VYkpivK36MXXrx6J_aPyeNq_LMnMdyjOHMLD-FyluGL_Qsl9WsOztqd572Yu8gaKQtI6WOEq7fbhqkA5IeIOfwJU/w640-h480/8E7D94E6-BC79-4929-878F-D09653C6221B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The trouble with Coward’s plays, is the need of an English upper-class <i>twang</i> in the delivery, in order to make the play sing. I’ll never forget my first experience of this in the West End production of <a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2010/03/private-lives.html" target="_blank">Private Lives</a>, a eleven years ago. Get this right, and the whole play travels beautifully. But pitch it wrong, and it becomes like a spoof comedy sketch, for the BBC in the 1940’s! Unfortunately, in the first act, this is what this production felt like, and I kept expecting to see <i>Ms</i> <i>Saunders</i> comedy sparring partner <i>Ms French</i>, bouncing in, to complete the comedic pay-off.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZ0PVtP9eOe8GR1aZCi0zjWHCe3DkEtu4fe6Rez5aSiLw1ruZ40O9MOyg3WcecSIeMiJMnp1PAlPg1kV5THuYnGcq_t-mAGIIW5DAlfrepV3b9s9FnurAkW-V-H6FJERCxpBEJCslkJo/s300/F437D76E-C239-45DD-AB34-8E4B4269F64C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZ0PVtP9eOe8GR1aZCi0zjWHCe3DkEtu4fe6Rez5aSiLw1ruZ40O9MOyg3WcecSIeMiJMnp1PAlPg1kV5THuYnGcq_t-mAGIIW5DAlfrepV3b9s9FnurAkW-V-H6FJERCxpBEJCslkJo/w640-h358/F437D76E-C239-45DD-AB34-8E4B4269F64C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>This comedic <i>ghost</i> story is well-known; its about widowed writer <i>Charles Condomine</i></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">(Geoffrey Streatfeild) who lives in a lavish country house with his second wife, <i>Ruth</i> (Lisa Dillon). In order to satisfy their curiosity in the name of research, they invite the eccentric medium <i>Madame Arcati</i> (Jennifer Saunders) into their home, to hold a seance. The seance is carried out after their dinner party with the local doctor and his wife, where <i>Charles’</i> ethereal first wife <i>Elvira</i> (Madeleline Mantock) crosses over, back from the dead, in order to torment him.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRIunXXzvWirCwegYF6_qYCHACSWS8SsLXGhTrAhsgmTSugAo080PidKs8VnOgg6Q8nNRi3HtgltqVIuC2BUlIuy1pOl8cmAULcT5Xl7cyJ3dX5Y7iz9QKxCmvNpuEt__Hu2Nwe4Tbh8/s600/FCD3F8B8-7BA4-45A4-96AF-B26833B1E4A3.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="600" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRIunXXzvWirCwegYF6_qYCHACSWS8SsLXGhTrAhsgmTSugAo080PidKs8VnOgg6Q8nNRi3HtgltqVIuC2BUlIuy1pOl8cmAULcT5Xl7cyJ3dX5Y7iz9QKxCmvNpuEt__Hu2Nwe4Tbh8/w640-h384/FCD3F8B8-7BA4-45A4-96AF-B26833B1E4A3.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The main comedy thrust of the play is derived from the conversations between <i>Charles</i> and his invisible wife, which is misinterpreted and miss understood by his fellow housemates. The other comedic element is the clumsy rushing <i>maid</i> (Rose Wardlaw) which is a key character in the whole piece. I’m afraid that Wardlaw's attempt was as timid and weak, as the set. What should have been solid and grand, was far more flimsy and wooden, with the hardboard doors, cheap curtains and the photographic canvas garden a big disappointment. Minor errors which could have been overcome by easy remedies.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnoCscQ_49qhfHHcwAnFY0wW3NYX8BjVEEWXVPXTCIM0_TPlPZX3PNqEhL41p7GsAhKSIlKiqqUoSPuKjOoxRXPsCxWdtwoDSVZqIjzOdTD3mqCxTS_x2vOdQrrFKN3-Vtb7VAdMD88I/s225/11CAC7AF-08D2-432E-AE68-0501F0A29D5F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnoCscQ_49qhfHHcwAnFY0wW3NYX8BjVEEWXVPXTCIM0_TPlPZX3PNqEhL41p7GsAhKSIlKiqqUoSPuKjOoxRXPsCxWdtwoDSVZqIjzOdTD3mqCxTS_x2vOdQrrFKN3-Vtb7VAdMD88I/w640-h640/11CAC7AF-08D2-432E-AE68-0501F0A29D5F.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><i>Ms Saunders</i> greatly improved in the second act, where her comedy timing and excellent stage presence made her stand out from the mediocre melodramatic fellow company members. But unfortunately, the dreadful choice of cheap, tv sitcom music, which crept in towards the end of each scene, amplified the cheap melodramatic mess on stage. This was unfortunate and unforgiving for such an experienced stage director.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I’d like to suggest it’s worth seeing, purely for the staring-role of <i>Ms Saunders</i>, but with the cheapest tickets at £15 in the <i>Royal Circle</i> (with the <i>Balcony</i> clearly not sold) and its incovenient restricted view of the set, and the accompanied unfortunate loud <i>on-off sound </i>of the follow-spot, I wouldn’t bother. Rent the new film version, and spend the evening at home with <i>Dame Judi</i>, with a full view, a stronger company and no <i>jobsworth</i> ushers!.</span></div></span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s1"></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Blithe Spirit, Harold Pinter Theatre, ★ ★</span></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-53141559007425616612021-09-19T00:28:00.012+01:002021-09-27T05:14:17.034+01:00The Last Five Years, Garrick Theatre, ★ ★ ★ ★ <div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;">When I first heard the music of Stephen Sondheim, it took a few repeated soundtracks to truly fall in love, and admire his musical language. But with musical theatre composers such as Jonathan Larson and his show </span><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;"><a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2007/11/rent.html" target="_blank">Rent</a></span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"> or Jason Robert Brown’s </span><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;">13, The Last Five Years</span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"> or </span><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;">Songs for a New World </span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;">(equally passionately idolised by musical theatre students), I’m still trying to find that passion, to include them in my favourites memory box.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPetG_L7efH2SEv52YXW51AILgwlppTZZi_m48ufTnt0uknIWQK18x2JohHjkMyCohgvPHwB7F4mLo2PsrmilrHqAr1SSI4QsHmdhrBsCtf7N3BmU_D6U5w2aYAgIZsIoBErtk_9juHaE/s1080/A687B898-F5AC-4532-B069-7551EC7FCFF9.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPetG_L7efH2SEv52YXW51AILgwlppTZZi_m48ufTnt0uknIWQK18x2JohHjkMyCohgvPHwB7F4mLo2PsrmilrHqAr1SSI4QsHmdhrBsCtf7N3BmU_D6U5w2aYAgIZsIoBErtk_9juHaE/w640-h640/A687B898-F5AC-4532-B069-7551EC7FCFF9.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1">So when the opportunity came to revisit Jason Robert Brown’s two-hander, about a failing relationship between a husband and wife over </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">The</span><span class="s1"> </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Last Five Years </span><span class="s1">of their married life, I jumped at the chance. Originally staged at the Southwark Playhouse for two sold-out seasons in 2020, it has now transferred to the Garrick Theatre, for an ‘<i>extremely limited run’</i> of four weeks. This glossy flyered production held high expectations. It was also re-staged to coincide with the annual celebration of all things musical at Trafalgar Square, the annual <i>stagey</i> soirée of </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="https://www.westendlive.co.uk" target="_blank">West End Live</a></span><span class="s1">, a stone’s throw from the theatre. </span></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbuZbe-xqktu19iAEVewXU_2txMh-iBW0OTp_83i58WlIK3DSEaxj-fmZQuQlmyNyLoBq9Dz_GNNaACYdCZmxp8uCDjN0E-to77X3FC5ztKrLbS8orZqkxGpKzb_sbN3MuqusQT58HylM/s2048/3107B041-F592-4A48-94CA-C5F5EA5C4422.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbuZbe-xqktu19iAEVewXU_2txMh-iBW0OTp_83i58WlIK3DSEaxj-fmZQuQlmyNyLoBq9Dz_GNNaACYdCZmxp8uCDjN0E-to77X3FC5ztKrLbS8orZqkxGpKzb_sbN3MuqusQT58HylM/w480-h640/3107B041-F592-4A48-94CA-C5F5EA5C4422.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1">I knew I’d seen another production of this piece, years ago, but I couldn’t remember where or by whom. Whilst queuing to enter the theatre, I suddenly recalled a production by the students at the Guildhall, back in 2010. Leading that production was a newly graduated <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freddie_Fox_(actor)" target="_blank">Freddie Fox</a>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqerFLXRzAM2XLay0H4ARqnxWd3xe6faDn4YcvkjWFonS7-7fNj2y9o56v2GYmhW5Af1o3Cwu415NfXIEChfdKhkq3wKF9vRwpZg2Bfw6tCDtJUfPJ-S6y9YOjl3oXGtQJ6GC388AuVNc/s2048/F6E554BC-9F0F-4F4E-A13C-451AA854F8EB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqerFLXRzAM2XLay0H4ARqnxWd3xe6faDn4YcvkjWFonS7-7fNj2y9o56v2GYmhW5Af1o3Cwu415NfXIEChfdKhkq3wKF9vRwpZg2Bfw6tCDtJUfPJ-S6y9YOjl3oXGtQJ6GC388AuVNc/w480-h640/F6E554BC-9F0F-4F4E-A13C-451AA854F8EB.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;">As expected, the Garrick was impressively full, with a predictable majority of young students. We were introduced to a soundscape of a busy urban city, most probably New York. Revolving on stage, under a circle of blue lights, was a grand piano, teasing the musical feast that followed.</div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-p58Ks9uy7U8GNc07BUiJF31UdOhyphenhyphenkQc5ISjb2il-mDLfqFNEPFin6FD9nsgxqoCn2zVfOrkjhzhbGi8lKa5YNYtNnekyqwEdPQE4v14A9u8DTFZDA0tKcfOjtUhU5cIM4i-n9rGkWA/s313/1932A3F6-56EE-43C4-AA72-D62018F5DC3B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="161" data-original-width="313" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-p58Ks9uy7U8GNc07BUiJF31UdOhyphenhyphenkQc5ISjb2il-mDLfqFNEPFin6FD9nsgxqoCn2zVfOrkjhzhbGi8lKa5YNYtNnekyqwEdPQE4v14A9u8DTFZDA0tKcfOjtUhU5cIM4i-n9rGkWA/w640-h330/1932A3F6-56EE-43C4-AA72-D62018F5DC3B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div>The show started with a series of effective and dramatic flash-back snapshots, introducing us to </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Cathy (</span><span class="s1">Molly Lynch) and </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Jamie</span><span class="s1"> (Oli Higginson). Lit up behind them were three impressive tall initials, <i>L5Y</i>, covered in hundreds of bulbs. Not only was this an illuminating production, but clearly an electrifying expensive one too. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8GKTGPNTDInteJug6xFPUDn7y2FaCpwENquHKyFZE_bBtf5iwkDUM_bQ80RXnf_49FGCfOggqZdp9wxhCUaj3TCVyJdzWfL7-Ywft-tfp5aqg85oGwVyM9eU07KKF34Y9TpHgEIM5PQ/s449/39462C33-2535-4FED-A5B7-FDC168E9C1DF.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="300" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8GKTGPNTDInteJug6xFPUDn7y2FaCpwENquHKyFZE_bBtf5iwkDUM_bQ80RXnf_49FGCfOggqZdp9wxhCUaj3TCVyJdzWfL7-Ywft-tfp5aqg85oGwVyM9eU07KKF34Y9TpHgEIM5PQ/w429-h640/39462C33-2535-4FED-A5B7-FDC168E9C1DF.webp" width="429" /></a></div><br /></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1">With a clever book and lyrics, revealing </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Jamie’s</span><span class="s1"> story from the start of their relationship to its end, while </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Cathy’s</span><span class="s1"> story is in reverse. It’s a lovely idea, especially as we build-up and then backwards, towards the collision of their paths. There were beautifully captured moments like when <i>Jamie </i>opens an empty bracelet box, ready to show his fiancé, while she ends his song, by replacing the bracelet, rather than receiving it. What ties the two stories together is the grand piano, which allows the other muted partner to mimic accompanying their partners song. Another clever number was </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Cathy’s</span><span class="s1"> audition for a job as a singer, deconstructing from the final finished stage performance to the nightmare of the first audition. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDMLlaAT8TVEyOsfQP11RUgWjsaxV4g0SzpN_YMZCC-VgNrezeG76NfL_sUJ3OJjZVeTDW24bowtodffmDRwOEAYm_0iqv1ZC6PYwzXaO4k-N0TA0VWQW8Bxb_XTssUWMgywsiWUVbAw/s264/D08D7C96-B866-483C-B5CE-28C09AE0B844.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="264" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDMLlaAT8TVEyOsfQP11RUgWjsaxV4g0SzpN_YMZCC-VgNrezeG76NfL_sUJ3OJjZVeTDW24bowtodffmDRwOEAYm_0iqv1ZC6PYwzXaO4k-N0TA0VWQW8Bxb_XTssUWMgywsiWUVbAw/w640-h462/D08D7C96-B866-483C-B5CE-28C09AE0B844.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ve always believed you need to see a solid, credible production of any show or play, before you can judge the merit of the material. I learned this from an early age after witnessing horrendous productions of the Shakespeare plays, which can put you off for life, missing out on the brilliance of the Bard. This is also true of musicals, and I can honestly say, with its mesmerising portrayal of the passion and heartbreak, along with their perfect diction and delivery, this is probably the best production I’ll ever hear and see. Lavishly supported by a live band that embraces their emotional journeys through their passionate playing, this is a production that will be hard to forget. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIU8YAjFwUhmmMS5UNXkk_7bCFaBX59FERZ6XQNqd5Je9B64YZ8aCKEsppfu1wafKEuKwTyqNOz489JqYuZL7N1MIhyphenhyphenUIuccQimJhQMJlbjWAsnYbpxWj3K6E68tYvYl7l8JsioeuxAU/s274/B80CF8C2-4050-41D0-B762-1A99C2D392F8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="274" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIU8YAjFwUhmmMS5UNXkk_7bCFaBX59FERZ6XQNqd5Je9B64YZ8aCKEsppfu1wafKEuKwTyqNOz489JqYuZL7N1MIhyphenhyphenUIuccQimJhQMJlbjWAsnYbpxWj3K6E68tYvYl7l8JsioeuxAU/w640-h430/B80CF8C2-4050-41D0-B762-1A99C2D392F8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The same attention-to-detail and praise must be given to the direction and overall designs of the show, from the set to the lighting, the soundscape and movement. An ironic successful marriage of material and masterful decisions, which shows off the best qualities of the piece.</div></span><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CPqNuptdD0bIS2ONQZzPC1qFBH46VlY-iwhuVrdzpahANpDTE-1MRDc26mS0J2IlSJsDqib4YGVnS8yWeNUB-iPMVhgQ4RcS3HudBA8ix6NjT90zX94tZmiBanJ9EDrfmhcrSZt18ds/s1413/470D3F5C-8E69-4B86-9982-78ABF41A01C4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="795" data-original-width="1413" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CPqNuptdD0bIS2ONQZzPC1qFBH46VlY-iwhuVrdzpahANpDTE-1MRDc26mS0J2IlSJsDqib4YGVnS8yWeNUB-iPMVhgQ4RcS3HudBA8ix6NjT90zX94tZmiBanJ9EDrfmhcrSZt18ds/w640-h360/470D3F5C-8E69-4B86-9982-78ABF41A01C4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="s1"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div>But as I left the theatre, the only melody that stayed in my tired head was Stephen Schwartz’s </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Corner of the Sky</span><span class="s1"> from </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2011/12/pippin.html" target="_blank">Pippin</a></span><span class="s1">, which I’d heard at </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">West End Live</span><span class="s1">, earlier in the day. So I’d finished where I started, pretty much like </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic;">Cathy</span><span class="s1"> in the show. A very memorable production but a mediocre unmemorable score. This left me with another problem; how many stars to assign?. If it was purely for the look and feel and delivery of this production, then I’d happily give five stars. But unfortunately, the score and my overall enjoyment which lapsed a little with the last five songs, I could only manage a meagre three. So I’ll be kind, and meet them in the middle, awarding a safe shiney stagey four stars.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Last Five Years, Garrick Theatre, ★ ★ ★ ★</div></span></span></div><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NanM9nsvttg" width="320" youtube-src-id="NanM9nsvttg"></iframe></div><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px;"><br /></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-30113101656545907842021-09-18T00:56:00.011+01:002021-10-09T07:10:23.887+01:00Shining City (PREVIEW), Theatre Royal Stratford East, ★ ★ ★ ★<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I’d never seen a play by Conor McPherson. Well, that’s what I thought. Yes, shock horror, and hang my head in shame. Having now experienced over 1000 productions (on my last count), I’d obviously heard of his name, and his infamous play <i>The Weir</i> (translated and performed in Welsh, a few years ago ), but for some reason, had no recollection of seeing any other productions. When I did a quick search on my archive, I realised that I HAD seen his <i>The Night Alive</i> at the Donmar in 2013, but the memory of that one-night-stand must have died. </span></div><p></p><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In its second preview at the iconic Theatre Royal Stratford East, there is no doubt that Artistic Director Nadia Fall’s latest production of his 2004 ‘g<i>host story set in Dublin’</i> <i>Shining City, </i>is a glowing spooky success. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWwpH_eOvLKENB3kDr99V02tUn1mVKJzN3ISezpB4AgGC4ZlF_NkxWDr7vQZ6-tM1LX3QR4OlshDW3bucZFJzpZiYyQCpieQGspP8PM2HpcUBwDzE-8nnXWceab8KAZlN3v19s4vk_5A/s400/E76CD5C3-2149-4EF6-8112-DA0C131A2CCC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="400" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWwpH_eOvLKENB3kDr99V02tUn1mVKJzN3ISezpB4AgGC4ZlF_NkxWDr7vQZ6-tM1LX3QR4OlshDW3bucZFJzpZiYyQCpieQGspP8PM2HpcUBwDzE-8nnXWceab8KAZlN3v19s4vk_5A/w640-h472/E76CD5C3-2149-4EF6-8112-DA0C131A2CCC.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Set in the newly acquired run-down office / study of recently graduated therapist <i>Ian</i> (Rory Keenan) it’s a story about the troubled lives of two men, who are unexpectedly brought together. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-muB-oiOxeJGtBrQazoYCrxPK7wjIrBuymmprF7TkByakq9MFQe6ZJkBjZ3txn_d7nzuFPfwg_GVlS0f2FnsmwNLTcs8aPaVsP12Si18Ju72t5zmxSj4eP2DwK_x9wBUT2Fi5lNUOmHs/s2048/C81E84FF-011B-458C-B5F3-17A930FE25B4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1364" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-muB-oiOxeJGtBrQazoYCrxPK7wjIrBuymmprF7TkByakq9MFQe6ZJkBjZ3txn_d7nzuFPfwg_GVlS0f2FnsmwNLTcs8aPaVsP12Si18Ju72t5zmxSj4eP2DwK_x9wBUT2Fi5lNUOmHs/w640-h426/C81E84FF-011B-458C-B5F3-17A930FE25B4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Brendan Coyle, better known as </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Mr Bates</i><span style="font-family: verdana;">, from ITV’s </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Downton Abbey, </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">is </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">John</i><span style="font-family: verdana;">, the client that comes to share his troubled life, and seek some peace of mind</span><i style="font-family: verdana;">. </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Through a series of long monologue-like back-stories, we soon see the parallels between these two men, which are scarily suspicious.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaAqdXZ5cMUsXTKRGp6W6PZRF4zUmDiarwBGl9hCLnTcqXxKR0blIl2okZe27EKIEn-x46M1ndFdN9kMSQzAoweW96wX97T5vcO-V1GEoVN43T6oYki_ilx7L7efAm9JVtXOpDXwoYko/s620/4383785A-A5C3-4632-A495-885920ADDE80.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaAqdXZ5cMUsXTKRGp6W6PZRF4zUmDiarwBGl9hCLnTcqXxKR0blIl2okZe27EKIEn-x46M1ndFdN9kMSQzAoweW96wX97T5vcO-V1GEoVN43T6oYki_ilx7L7efAm9JVtXOpDXwoYko/w640-h426/4383785A-A5C3-4632-A495-885920ADDE80.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>With a running time of almost 120 minutes straight-through, there were several points during the production, where I felt it needed a break; not only because of the intensity of the piece, but also from my human tolerance and ability to sit in the dark, (face masked), for so long. But on it went, intentionally sustaining the tension, as to experience the ending in all its glory.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvKEiRdE0fu_RodfYxbbsKzSpQHyWT9mAlRLydjoKFW5hs-BqhVyB-ejPXuxsF5bogYx0hYqEuTHYqmmfkdaRYj4eKQ44_n1jtdTUwNK_JyP4hzWhPK12rs53CmDPhpqw01EMdUF4Vg8/s620/8EBC3E69-9BD4-428A-AEF0-888799C0EC8C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvKEiRdE0fu_RodfYxbbsKzSpQHyWT9mAlRLydjoKFW5hs-BqhVyB-ejPXuxsF5bogYx0hYqEuTHYqmmfkdaRYj4eKQ44_n1jtdTUwNK_JyP4hzWhPK12rs53CmDPhpqw01EMdUF4Vg8/w640-h426/8EBC3E69-9BD4-428A-AEF0-888799C0EC8C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>To a newbie like me of McPherson’s work, my critical brain began to doubt the legitimacy of these long back-story monologues, saved from the tedious by Coyle’s smooth and successful delivery. Beautifully timed, recalled and served with a touch of dark humour, it was impossible not to be taken in, by this city’s tragic tale. In hindsight, these constant streams of consciousness fit in perfectly, but are highly charged and uplifted by Coyle’s charismatic ability to capture and entertain an audience. </span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2AVi67Pt2zVB_1CxeA6KM6a0zj0NURfcWHHLQCgM8vCGyqQ49-obbebi0hvnfj07v18iV3ZhLUZeuJEUy5qQFKKVJBoiVcZFZ-5ksfbWpEweRqnbaSBm3xI2z6GnTKTVUY7fGj-z9TA/s620/A4AF24DF-62DE-46AF-AD8A-685ED377F89F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2AVi67Pt2zVB_1CxeA6KM6a0zj0NURfcWHHLQCgM8vCGyqQ49-obbebi0hvnfj07v18iV3ZhLUZeuJEUy5qQFKKVJBoiVcZFZ-5ksfbWpEweRqnbaSBm3xI2z6GnTKTVUY7fGj-z9TA/w640-h426/A4AF24DF-62DE-46AF-AD8A-685ED377F89F.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><i style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></i></div>Ian’s</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> story, although far more subtle than </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">John’s</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> main plot, is spiced in one scene, by the arrival of </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Neasa</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> (Michelle Fox). This much needed relief from </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">John’s</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> on-going saga, along with the beautiful but unexpected arrival of </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">Laurence</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> (Curtis-Lee Ashqar) provide the depth for the eerie sub-plot. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUvPkEInAcP4MIagQ2SnLskcbzWxBdrelpPzEsodPgtjf49dS5sTwwm5GeV50gkXjWaRBp8qpi3Uqg1I28PB-RAwsMy4FDJ-yBefMS1c8eiGSiaR2IKushPVakyC3Yob25eeKfuVt5oU/s620/79A9FCDE-20AA-4D2E-97DE-06EE29D96499.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUvPkEInAcP4MIagQ2SnLskcbzWxBdrelpPzEsodPgtjf49dS5sTwwm5GeV50gkXjWaRBp8qpi3Uqg1I28PB-RAwsMy4FDJ-yBefMS1c8eiGSiaR2IKushPVakyC3Yob25eeKfuVt5oU/w640-h426/79A9FCDE-20AA-4D2E-97DE-06EE29D96499.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;">Another slight distraction, is the need to bring down the front cloth between each scene. In a production that omits an interval, and is totally dependent on the patience of an audience to stay with them for almost two hours, it becomes an unfortunate reoccurring issue. But do stay with it, and your patience and concentration will be rewarded at the end.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" face="-webkit-standard" style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieD-hT4LE-HtyO9rBpOlc-GW_Zz-A6kU9r3l92OwU7qn5kf91uH9i_7DNfpWbTNy90Uo3yJXbShc8g4QVEEWhciPh8Acc9kK-R0aA0P7EbUy-Cf5WJDdZfMk2p_0M2LMhXTFqs2ZmEPj0/s2048/A73CDB57-A4D3-4F46-A382-84999FC7766E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieD-hT4LE-HtyO9rBpOlc-GW_Zz-A6kU9r3l92OwU7qn5kf91uH9i_7DNfpWbTNy90Uo3yJXbShc8g4QVEEWhciPh8Acc9kK-R0aA0P7EbUy-Cf5WJDdZfMk2p_0M2LMhXTFqs2ZmEPj0/w480-h640/A73CDB57-A4D3-4F46-A382-84999FC7766E.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></span><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">An impressive production and introduction to McPherson’s work, in the capable and charismatic hands of a strong company, led by the brilliance of Brendan Coyle.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/W11GJGMqoY4" width="320" youtube-src-id="W11GJGMqoY4"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="caret-color: rgb(98, 98, 98); color: #626262; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 24.479999542236328px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative; text-align: start;">Shining City, Theatre Royal Stratford East, ★ ★ ★ ★</h3></div></span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-2758065542563796422021-09-17T14:42:00.049+01:002021-09-27T05:09:45.179+01:00Cinderella, Gillian Lynne Theatre ★ ★ ★<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">After my initial preview ticket was cancelled (thanks to COVID), and my second nightmare £28 ‘<i>restricted</i>’ seat-in-the-Stalls, (with only a side view of the front apron), this Welsh Cinders finally got to appreciate the entirety of the Ball!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The much-hyped new Lloyd Webber show finally opened (to full capacity) at the recently renovated Gillian Lynne Theatre. At first glance, it’s impossible to see any renovations to this well-loved space, which housed the Jellicle Ball for <i>Cats</i>, for many years. Since then, under its more recognisable name of the New London Theatre, I experienced many spectacular shows such as the short-lived adaptation of <i><a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2008/05/gone-with-wind.html" target="_blank">Gone with the Wind</a></i>, the Jewish epic saga <i><a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2008/11/imagine-this.html" target="_blank">Imagine This</a></i>, the award winning National Theatre’s adaptation of <i><a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2009/04/war-horse.html" target="_blank">War Horse</a></i>, and more recently, Daniel Evans’s lavish production of <i><a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2016/04/showboat-new-london-theatre.html" target="_blank">Showboat</a></i>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGQk3yYzisHEQ1R7wXd3dpHUZP4Su7Xb2D37RuKen1tQiUMMW1fDlWxuDXNKBF-UsQchcnHyKNV5hg49YqjwI5fGhH64S2puJmZoXxbSOVxBAg4BawlhVhkUdZyAIEkUPJfnvCrOkrqU/s1800/676C2EF8-BDA7-44A4-B663-64754041E8BA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGQk3yYzisHEQ1R7wXd3dpHUZP4Su7Xb2D37RuKen1tQiUMMW1fDlWxuDXNKBF-UsQchcnHyKNV5hg49YqjwI5fGhH64S2puJmZoXxbSOVxBAg4BawlhVhkUdZyAIEkUPJfnvCrOkrqU/w640-h640/676C2EF8-BDA7-44A4-B663-64754041E8BA.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: justify;">But back to its current sensation, </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Cinderella</i><span style="text-align: justify;">, which wows the audience, as they enter. There’s no doubt that Gabriela Tylesova’s stage and costume design is spectacular, framed in its elaborate (and blatantly redundant) gold proscenium arch (my nemesis for the failure to see 70% of the stage, from my side stalls seat). </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFMHphVfaCvxgP4GgWfTg3o133BlReGS9-axOiFxqunZYeZ4SeZMV9z2LVq6ZWR1tkay6FstSzqN_pisMpww_0jVF2S9oh4qtexP_YKBITDd0pL78Xq_zumlPRZBDs038v6v7rlLp22c/s2048/31FAFFAD-0CCA-405B-A400-09C60050F936.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFMHphVfaCvxgP4GgWfTg3o133BlReGS9-axOiFxqunZYeZ4SeZMV9z2LVq6ZWR1tkay6FstSzqN_pisMpww_0jVF2S9oh4qtexP_YKBITDd0pL78Xq_zumlPRZBDs038v6v7rlLp22c/w480-h640/31FAFFAD-0CCA-405B-A400-09C60050F936.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A word of warning, beware which seats you book. Seek advice. Although heavily reduced, and sold as having a ‘<i>very restricted view’</i>, I’d question the definition of ‘<i>restricted</i>’ in some seats, as there was no view at all of the the main stage. It was only when I was compensated and treated to a VIP package experience, with ‘<i>the best seats in the house’</i>, (centre stalls) that I could appreciate the beauty and theatrical magic, that lies within this show.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><span class="s2"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJAlEjV9tJLQoCPrGlmhMLsLRlqilPYAvdBKWxQz0EIkRsayRDYdtyev2hbvxZc3Za6lwqmyQWIx5XTOMd34jBz3gDR8DzKS634Ye0jYt357YO209U_z8ni2kwX-8vWFrG3gmEPDpigY/s2048/403172B6-676E-4E60-8EE1-4CEDCE3E4A44.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJAlEjV9tJLQoCPrGlmhMLsLRlqilPYAvdBKWxQz0EIkRsayRDYdtyev2hbvxZc3Za6lwqmyQWIx5XTOMd34jBz3gDR8DzKS634Ye0jYt357YO209U_z8ni2kwX-8vWFrG3gmEPDpigY/w640-h360/403172B6-676E-4E60-8EE1-4CEDCE3E4A44.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There is no doubt that a new Lloyd Webber musical is an occasion, but it comes with the usual pitfalls. Both</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Ward_(musical)" target="_blank">Stephen Ward</a></i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">and</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i><a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.com/2010/03/love-never-dies.html" target="_blank">Love Never Dies</a></i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">had their issues, along with the unfortunate similarity of the melodies, repeated from other shows. This isn’t a negative occurrence, as Messers Rodgers & Hammerstein and Mr Sondheim all share the same issue. The only annoyance for me, is Lord Lloyd Webber’s tendency to create rather simplistic musical motifs using a limited range of notes. Think of the limited musical phrases, constantly repeated in his much loved songs like</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i><a href="https://youtu.be/sxR-1mZem8Q" target="_blank">Don’t Cry For Me Argentina,</a> <a href="https://youtu.be/TUsM8RgbMyE" target="_blank">High Flying Adored</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/jkXtt0bemFU" target="_blank">Starlight Express</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/mdBVJbzkoqo" target="_blank">Memory</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/8jyDm9sBuAU" target="_blank">Love Changes Everything</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/PVWpgmiIbas" target="_blank">Close Every Door</a> </i><span style="font-size: medium;">and</span><i> <a href="https://youtu.be/77umP7IRxD4" target="_blank">Music of the Night</a></i><span style="font-size: medium;">, to name but a few. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Unfortunately, this is painfully obvious from the overture of Cinderella, which can only truly boast two good solid songs (one in each act) and an annoying repeated</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i>‘<a href="https://youtu.be/aHQQiRwhEh0" target="_blank">Call me bad Cinderella</a></i><a href="https://youtu.be/aHQQiRwhEh0" target="_blank">’</a><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">musical motif. The majority of the music was bland and boring, with shared lazy similarities from</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i>Phantom, Evita</i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">and</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i>Joseph</i><span style="font-size: medium;">. But somehow, he gets away with it, thanks to the lavish orchestral arrangements, and a very suspicious pre-recorded musical accompaniment. </span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div></span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-z3Cf_ri6RRrq10phpCKDOEyR_XoD14RhE2Ag6bfbTAT6urpsTIRtE3F_siBYfY8dl4MMjAK9pRucET_6hHATRNmFcax0VdNA8yx-pR52olBklYRYPu8eATDhQftpJ-RVQ3g-fo7250/s735/2E54F018-C8DB-48B6-AEEE-1F5C1F7C2429.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="551" data-original-width="735" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-z3Cf_ri6RRrq10phpCKDOEyR_XoD14RhE2Ag6bfbTAT6urpsTIRtE3F_siBYfY8dl4MMjAK9pRucET_6hHATRNmFcax0VdNA8yx-pR52olBklYRYPu8eATDhQftpJ-RVQ3g-fo7250/w640-h480/2E54F018-C8DB-48B6-AEEE-1F5C1F7C2429.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The traditional rags to riches <i>Cinderella</i> story has also been given a transformation, which is rather confusing at times; two mothers, two Prince Charming’s (well, one is billed as Charming and the other more timid); two palatial homes, oxymoronic ugly step-sisters and a cocky, gothic Cinderella!</span></div></span><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaffpECoKDDpnFusuu9y4OMQXGMgLGRaRzcPW1xX9_-1c8iUCgvbrVpSCVgoOBlwVVRZ6ypxWrXioWuLw6Jwm9OSoaRLfNiYx3Oyhbcwp41zbgUu7bh374-eG1uGpV7oGR9ArFWDGVGLY/s1200/38D76E9E-9C42-437B-A076-F0B0D7DBF63B.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaffpECoKDDpnFusuu9y4OMQXGMgLGRaRzcPW1xX9_-1c8iUCgvbrVpSCVgoOBlwVVRZ6ypxWrXioWuLw6Jwm9OSoaRLfNiYx3Oyhbcwp41zbgUu7bh374-eG1uGpV7oGR9ArFWDGVGLY/w640-h320/38D76E9E-9C42-437B-A076-F0B0D7DBF63B.webp" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The <i>Disney-</i>esque<i> </i>opening number is again borrowed from <i>Beauty and the Beast</i>, introducing quirky inhabitants of this provincial town. This scene also introduces the main thrust of the plot, and the town’s necessity to re-gain its respect and good name. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bE2KNTUMkr5YUD4kAdE0NT43o9wrVxERjJt0m-EDt-iTHETTSRqIkgmvfhUZhX2o65sZitSMPTShIwfB4INpYEIWvgmYM9BUx1BeQeta5M4FxagmVgwyWB0vF3mvzCdP-T9l-L8a-mk/s1600/81C22649-57F5-4DB9-864A-12B3049CB489.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bE2KNTUMkr5YUD4kAdE0NT43o9wrVxERjJt0m-EDt-iTHETTSRqIkgmvfhUZhX2o65sZitSMPTShIwfB4INpYEIWvgmYM9BUx1BeQeta5M4FxagmVgwyWB0vF3mvzCdP-T9l-L8a-mk/w640-h360/81C22649-57F5-4DB9-864A-12B3049CB489.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So a wedding is planned, where the younger <i>Prince Sebastian (</i>Ivano Turco) is to be wed. Blackmailed by Cinders deep-voiced <i>Stepmother</i> brilliantly portrayed by Victoria Hamilton-Barritt, through a beautifully point-scoring duet, with the <i>Queen</i> (Rebecca Trehearn) the plan is hatched to get the young <i>Prince</i> married to one of the ugly sisters. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-Yka6hglpEXC14pFjTOsrr2Bh11N7ZY2SRWdtQV72_5i-wE6vzHOx_f8Yque161FoqVdOBz2qu-POqaVTcz7VBTPedLKzWFZWhjioLdwzxd7pDcPvsF7oyHd_51HBXza9Q26-Ln0D34/s2048/14149C42-3956-4A6B-9617-ABDA90E6AF9F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-Yka6hglpEXC14pFjTOsrr2Bh11N7ZY2SRWdtQV72_5i-wE6vzHOx_f8Yque161FoqVdOBz2qu-POqaVTcz7VBTPedLKzWFZWhjioLdwzxd7pDcPvsF7oyHd_51HBXza9Q26-Ln0D34/w640-h640/14149C42-3956-4A6B-9617-ABDA90E6AF9F.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In an attempt to bring this well-known and much loved fairytale into a conceptual modern context, it’s obvious that the ugliness of the step-sisters <i>Marie</i> (Georgina Castle) and <i>Adele (</i>Laura Baldwin) lies within. The same can be said of <i>Cinderella’s </i>beauty, although her appearance at the Ball clearly shows how stunning Carrie Hope Fletcher, really is. The unfortunate paradox of this modern concept is that she has to undergo some cosmetic surgery, carried out by her surgically qualified <i>Godmother</i> (Gloria Onitiri) in order to achieve her dream of beauty. This attempted modernist twist is also prominent in the second act, but you’ll have to attend the Ball itself, to witness that.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePtHUMZu2hphA3UgliToPUz-LyNi5IIonIxBfOj289u2RIn5fRgT04I0cOPu5CxC4SXj86OZfiOId1-OUWNiaSZU6AtGMMM1gBz5noAo-FjjwHVWAAI6F8kvdpRvStevHylOTnh7yIT4/s1200/43D5C845-96CA-4957-BEC1-5F9FB6304D61.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePtHUMZu2hphA3UgliToPUz-LyNi5IIonIxBfOj289u2RIn5fRgT04I0cOPu5CxC4SXj86OZfiOId1-OUWNiaSZU6AtGMMM1gBz5noAo-FjjwHVWAAI6F8kvdpRvStevHylOTnh7yIT4/w640-h640/43D5C845-96CA-4957-BEC1-5F9FB6304D61.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Was it a success? Well, oddly yes. It’s certainly spectacular, and well-worth seeing; more for the theatricality of the production (especially at the beginning of the second act). Musically, it was a let down, apart from the two previously mentioned songs - <i><a href="https://youtu.be/u7vumHX0Lxw" target="_blank">‘Only you, lonely you’</a> </i>by the <i>Prince</i> in act one, and <a href="https://youtu.be/WijjvKqGCKs" target="_blank"><i>‘Far Too late</i>’</a> by <i>Cinders</i> in the second act. There is no doubt that certain individuals carry the show, primarily the ironically named Carrie Hope Fletcher in the leading role, as does Rebecca Trehearn, Victoria Hamilton-Barritt and Caleb Roberts, right at the end. From my side seat view, I was lucky enough to hear the newly graduated Ivano Turco portraying the <i>Prince Sebastian, </i>with short glances of his brilliance presence on stage. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRzqh3spg1KSd6x7ANtipHzP_1rx8JlfqAuKf6lrmY6WdNd57Hjvsrrs2lJRr48FN71HZTCcMiely_xerDHth5ely5DnnndqXZKrKx8TR5iCHUlaFfOisrQnuUCSF6lYDFoL0M62pkM0/s590/88A9B2EF-B044-4D21-8C2A-DBF7BD57FFF3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="590" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRzqh3spg1KSd6x7ANtipHzP_1rx8JlfqAuKf6lrmY6WdNd57Hjvsrrs2lJRr48FN71HZTCcMiely_xerDHth5ely5DnnndqXZKrKx8TR5iCHUlaFfOisrQnuUCSF6lYDFoL0M62pkM0/w640-h534/88A9B2EF-B044-4D21-8C2A-DBF7BD57FFF3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">But on my second, fuller experience, the <i>Sebastian</i> was competently portrayed by his understudy, Jonathan David Dudley, which changed the dynamic of the character, and the whole feel of the production. These two actors have differing qualities, characters and looks, and unfortunately will change the essence of the main story. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirDZIdyu98uwjH0f8GNMI_9yny1P6c4z0wB8mM-FJ44QmiZlyG8bW-2v-okaVOAjEgm-6HchPtvfiivPUYN4X7Eh2RKfXG_w9L-8kic3-Uk6e8H4EAISkLAyXtRdlzVoVPtyYnvp2Ww2k/s782/7FF86492-E9D0-4794-B466-EF9C9889C06A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="782" data-original-width="455" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirDZIdyu98uwjH0f8GNMI_9yny1P6c4z0wB8mM-FJ44QmiZlyG8bW-2v-okaVOAjEgm-6HchPtvfiivPUYN4X7Eh2RKfXG_w9L-8kic3-Uk6e8H4EAISkLAyXtRdlzVoVPtyYnvp2Ww2k/w372-h640/7FF86492-E9D0-4794-B466-EF9C9889C06A.jpeg" width="372" /></a></div></span><span class="s2"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I’m glad I experienced this spectacle, but as Cinderella was pre-warned, before her outing to the Ball, I doubt whether this experience has the longevity to survive past midnight of the New Year. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zyp26RkmMyU" width="320" youtube-src-id="zyp26RkmMyU"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cinderella, Gillian Lynne Theatre, ★ ★ ★</span></div></span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16.7px; text-align: justify;"><br /><span class="s2"></span></p>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-84640480398948927152021-09-10T11:49:00.017+01:002021-10-08T10:52:47.599+01:00Waitress - The Musical (UK Tour), New Wimbledon Theatre, ★ ★<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9bQP7rUH3LD2cWQNXIaoiPcWQCTDpMPrx4WUgG55EhzvXIN6BPKFmxssyrq-4MrkRzNLdWvMqRIf52xgc5M_iWh541goi3O9v6sbUGdRdcANEauwM-26lpp0mu8wUR_48OpePMGTeOs/s1120/E9E573CE-7514-47CA-87C2-11CED0E95063.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="828" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9bQP7rUH3LD2cWQNXIaoiPcWQCTDpMPrx4WUgG55EhzvXIN6BPKFmxssyrq-4MrkRzNLdWvMqRIf52xgc5M_iWh541goi3O9v6sbUGdRdcANEauwM-26lpp0mu8wUR_48OpePMGTeOs/w474-h640/E9E573CE-7514-47CA-87C2-11CED0E95063.jpeg" width="474" /></a></div><span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><br /></span></span></div>Didn’t know anything about the musical </span><i>Waitress </i><span>before I was faced with the latticed cherry-pie front curtain, at the New Wimbledon Theatre. What was I going to see, once the pie had been sent to the sky? Was this another sickly-sweet music-box musical? Was it </span><i>really </i><span>just a musical about a waitress, working in a restaurant?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcILGY_ZdFMOlB_hWRfRhQpxmyGJhHblevTxlUeRqeortfFZvq1XFFQXOpY9mFZAU_o5XsVU3USSrTzg_bdcaJmk3M5L1QRQp6YML2fKEmnfQeKnDNn64uFEIEvznzPIx_gBDm9zyZcU/s2048/674FB3B3-5D39-4005-A0ED-E654A6BBD154.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcILGY_ZdFMOlB_hWRfRhQpxmyGJhHblevTxlUeRqeortfFZvq1XFFQXOpY9mFZAU_o5XsVU3USSrTzg_bdcaJmk3M5L1QRQp6YML2fKEmnfQeKnDNn64uFEIEvznzPIx_gBDm9zyZcU/w480-h640/674FB3B3-5D39-4005-A0ED-E654A6BBD154.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><br /></span></span></div>When the first number was blasted out, completely drowning every hope of trying to understand a single lyric, I was none the wiser. It was clearly set in a typical American diner, complete with a kitchen, tables, fridges and customers. And there she was, the </span><i>waitress </i><span>in question, <i>Jenna</i> (Lucie Jones) baking cakes between her banter at the tables, accompanied by her two co-workers <i>Becky</i> (Sandra Marvin) and <i>Dawn</i> (Evelyn Hoskins).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaXxMCgKLVzHc3atQehql68Af0DUaA24H7Ynpex_fNV1LXRj3ngU6whBTlkOzbo5wCHhTHEMRMFCmpT4c5NYezT5BwQTDCvNKZV7gP5Fi0LaXEFJWnKtslzTUpGkvnZMawYJ0beGgNIE/s900/4BAB6787-1546-4DD5-9BFC-5FDF0142CA50.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="900" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaXxMCgKLVzHc3atQehql68Af0DUaA24H7Ynpex_fNV1LXRj3ngU6whBTlkOzbo5wCHhTHEMRMFCmpT4c5NYezT5BwQTDCvNKZV7gP5Fi0LaXEFJWnKtslzTUpGkvnZMawYJ0beGgNIE/w640-h360/4BAB6787-1546-4DD5-9BFC-5FDF0142CA50.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Soon, my worst fears were realised that this truly <i>was </i>just<i> </i>a musical about a waitress, that finds out she’s pregnant. Trapped in an unhappy marriage with her bully of a husband, <i>Earl</i> (Tamlyn Henderson) she seeks solace from her gynaecologist at the hospital, <i>Dr Pomatter</i> (Matt Jay-Willis) </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">and before the bun in the oven has risen, she’s fallen-in-love with this handsome doctor. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcMNolKO1-YeKoi8OTr-AHIxExfyaityqgnvMOujLjJZNwp2c_FX0UAYOpgeHGsw9dcsMEgKQ0WTPmEaV_3NPIk28weF2Sq3gYMfjVa2maJSimwOLl4w0S6dzq8cm3EkB265DukCxSKY/s620/IMG_3536.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcMNolKO1-YeKoi8OTr-AHIxExfyaityqgnvMOujLjJZNwp2c_FX0UAYOpgeHGsw9dcsMEgKQ0WTPmEaV_3NPIk28weF2Sq3gYMfjVa2maJSimwOLl4w0S6dzq8cm3EkB265DukCxSKY/w640-h426/IMG_3536.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span>Naturally, I was taken back by this realisation, and began to think about plots of other musicals I’d seen over the years; about flying cars or flying nannies; about Cats or Lion Kings; Phantoms, historical figures, Carousels, Showboats or Cabarets… I’d even seen musical adaptations of TV shows and films, set in prisons, antique shops, with a singing pig or horny muppets! But why, oh why, was a story about an apparent unhappy waitress, (far more suitable as a plot for an episode of a tv drama), deemed worthy of the Broadway stage?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2e2qCTqXsLMfk0TffD46j3NhcIuzfbcp89mYT-vpLFaFpkA81VeftTg7QacNH2IULOqAH5Dz9wlpojLqCrxxJVVDNhO3DPNAGBTpK8VGp1pH0lZ4DD7tLlHSbOlAadRvYzcr9hE2NDUs/s620/IMG_3537.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2e2qCTqXsLMfk0TffD46j3NhcIuzfbcp89mYT-vpLFaFpkA81VeftTg7QacNH2IULOqAH5Dz9wlpojLqCrxxJVVDNhO3DPNAGBTpK8VGp1pH0lZ4DD7tLlHSbOlAadRvYzcr9hE2NDUs/w640-h426/IMG_3537.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">During the interval, cramped in my 1910 seat in the gods at the oxymoronic New Wimbledon Theatre, I did a quick <i>Wikipedia</i> search about the history of the show. It was all based on a low-budget movie, that had blasted all box office expectations, with its success</span></span><span>. I thought about the similar story of the musical Grey Gardens, which evolved from a cult 1970s documentary about a conflicting mother and daughter, trapped in a derelict mansion. Apparently, the original Broadway <i>Waitress</i> musical production was also glorified for having an all female creative team, and I couldn’t stop feeling that this was clearly a female oriented show, that had ridden on a feline fan-base, over the waves to the West End. Despite all my deepest feminine genes, and the masculine of my gay critical mind, I just didn’t </span><i>get-it</i><span>. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rb34jkWstaOTuh3r440mz6XvWjspRZx2Yv5mI3jGXu9Uh5lTmpi5XHXauvq2hf-o9UvE7f8XHJ4yDWmKgUZ-aBUnZD7YQyAW3mrkRrUs-Y3Q-e6RgAcXV5OENNw60YanS71iDL6Jb84/s1800/89F3CC8E-E5DE-4D54-8CD5-1BD368BB4CE7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rb34jkWstaOTuh3r440mz6XvWjspRZx2Yv5mI3jGXu9Uh5lTmpi5XHXauvq2hf-o9UvE7f8XHJ4yDWmKgUZ-aBUnZD7YQyAW3mrkRrUs-Y3Q-e6RgAcXV5OENNw60YanS71iDL6Jb84/w512-h640/89F3CC8E-E5DE-4D54-8CD5-1BD368BB4CE7.jpeg" width="512" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The second act continued with this pretty ordinary story, with the big revelation that the gynaecologist in question was married! Shock-horror! A devastated waitress, with all her dreams shattered. I’d clocked his wedding ring in the first few seconds of their meeting, and despite her hormonal state, and all the shenanigans in his surgery, I found it hard to accept that she hadn’t! Furthermore, to push our acceptance of this <i>reality </i>even further, she was a fellow student-doctor, who turns up as the waitress is about to give birth! Yes, we were clearly back in the TV sitcom mode.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhg0Ix_yKRZ0XN9MImzwMX8C-mgdeIlwEq-wv_Gtj2mISDHE7JIvxwR0YFpYey-KgcdZEQQLX-eBZRMgJ8F7s7XSRY1rrA1Q2J5BkYg4BLOHaIDWJuR6TgdY5ebgROWpBLArZb8EHG9c/s620/IMG_3535.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhg0Ix_yKRZ0XN9MImzwMX8C-mgdeIlwEq-wv_Gtj2mISDHE7JIvxwR0YFpYey-KgcdZEQQLX-eBZRMgJ8F7s7XSRY1rrA1Q2J5BkYg4BLOHaIDWJuR6TgdY5ebgROWpBLArZb8EHG9c/w640-h426/IMG_3535.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I just couldn’t believe how mundane and bland this developing plot was, with no saving-grace of a musical score, to lift it up, and worthy of a stage adaptation with lavish production values. At times, the live band drowned out any life on stage, and left me feeling even worse.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-JSjw-i17k9syzH7gXMMRy3Li4g2LptWE7kPOVE619IldhUDcvcx9_qqqu2dEZiVvNDGSD7ncZ8UZLyuewh3oCINAm2rYUJJCb1ZNQS0_o09VwMnhL6MlFd5c0K-uGXJKJ2kAQYcQeQ/s930/IMG_3533.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="620" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-JSjw-i17k9syzH7gXMMRy3Li4g2LptWE7kPOVE619IldhUDcvcx9_qqqu2dEZiVvNDGSD7ncZ8UZLyuewh3oCINAm2rYUJJCb1ZNQS0_o09VwMnhL6MlFd5c0K-uGXJKJ2kAQYcQeQ/w426-h640/IMG_3533.jpeg" width="426" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The only big number, that justifies this show as a one-hit-wonder, came in the second act, and it was a song that I recognised as a firm favourite in numerous musical theatre showcases. To give Lucie Jones her deserving praise, she did deliver a beautiful solo, but ‘<i>She used to be mine’</i> stood-out like a glacé cherry on top of a dull-gray iced cake!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BKQ1EpbZZTg" width="320" youtube-src-id="BKQ1EpbZZTg"></iframe></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I left the theatre before the curtain call, as disappointed as all the customers who came to her diner. They all seem to order a meal, were lavishly served a plastic plate of food, but left without tasting or eating any of it! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Waitress - The Musical (UK Tour), New Wimbledon Theatre, ★ ★</span></div>Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-11588322183937960292016-04-26T01:34:00.004+01:002021-09-27T05:15:27.078+01:00Dr Faustus, Duke of York, ★★★★<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The main attraction of
Jamie Lloyd’s current theatrical event is casting Kit Harington, star of cult
series ‘Game of Thrones’, as the troubled and utterly possessed ‘Dr Faustus’.
Despite seeing an early preview of this blood showered, ink spitting, anarchic production,
its one hell of a show!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZ4nuVkJlHZBTsIwvzth5td3y4WxLjTaZRDcbMoqJlVm0h1VE1OP_cvcMJbYcyaIQfaLGV_lL6i9fC1u8-ragukAKV5aQCLLLYHtfd0BrKh-L7JRaIbDqutj81RFK88IfKtJCuDb6tkw/s1600/29937_full.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZ4nuVkJlHZBTsIwvzth5td3y4WxLjTaZRDcbMoqJlVm0h1VE1OP_cvcMJbYcyaIQfaLGV_lL6i9fC1u8-ragukAKV5aQCLLLYHtfd0BrKh-L7JRaIbDqutj81RFK88IfKtJCuDb6tkw/s640/29937_full.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Teased and tempted to sell his soul to the
devil, the tormented Dr Faustus (Kit Harington), magician and failed academic,
somehow manages to earn our deepest sympathy, before choosing his ultimate
ending. But his journey to hell, accompanied by an almost unrecognizable Jenna
Russell as the demonic servant ‘</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1c1c; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mephistophilis</span><span lang="EN-US">’ is both disturbing and entertaining. The appearance of arch-demon
‘Lucifer’ (<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Forbes Masson)</span> in his
underwear, accompanied by a table fork, clearly shows that Jamie Lloyd’s tongue is well and truly in his cheek!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Beneath the ambiguous versions of the
original tale (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Georg_Faust">or true story of Dr Johann Georg Faust?)</a>, lie many truths; explored
and exploited in this modern adaptation by Colin Teevan. Laced with current
political references and added curses of modern life, it scarily brings the fire and brimstone battle, right up
to date.</div>
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Accompanied by an equally horrific (in the
best possible sense!) ensemble of sins and mythical ideologies, it really does question
why Dr Faustus chooses his own final destiny, as opposed to accepting his saving ‘Grace’ offer by 'Wagner' (Jade Anouka).</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Kit Harington’s spellbinding portrayal deserves
all the accolades for carrying pretty much all of this complex play on his own
shoulders, reduced only to his boxers, for much of the journey. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Ben and Max Ringham’s amazing and atmospheric
soundscape completes this dark tale of morality, that must have scared the hell
out of Elizabethan audiences, as is it still does today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://thejamielloydcompany.com/our-shows/doctor-faustus">Dr Faustus, Duke of York, ★★★★</a></span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-79165644690657264732016-04-26T00:45:00.002+01:002016-04-26T07:52:30.339+01:00Showboat, New London Theatre, ★★★★★<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Sheffield Theatre’s flagship production of <a href="http://showboatmusical.co.uk/">Showboat</a> has finally
arrived in the New London Theatre, carrying with it a company that sent shivers
down my spine. Set on board the Cotton
Blossom showboat, as it sets sail on the Mississippi river in 1887, this heart-wrenching
story of racial prejudice and </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1c1c;">tragic, enduring love, will make you glow with joy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQxEBHYfjuqMbEDHgZtS4HACKE-6A2uLUSBfhes_rwqqQYP_J2RojYgYuSyfA_iVvXm_p5LSn9Fz93xmka22mpJh1WlTpeCWzqMa8I0O7ZSK4MVJnnAObUZfPKMY3Li2OUOS7mY155-S8/s1600/3.-The-original-Sheffield-Theatres-cast-of-Show-Boat.-Credit-Johan-Persson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQxEBHYfjuqMbEDHgZtS4HACKE-6A2uLUSBfhes_rwqqQYP_J2RojYgYuSyfA_iVvXm_p5LSn9Fz93xmka22mpJh1WlTpeCWzqMa8I0O7ZSK4MVJnnAObUZfPKMY3Li2OUOS7mY155-S8/s640/3.-The-original-Sheffield-Theatres-cast-of-Show-Boat.-Credit-Johan-Persson.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
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Originally staged in 1927, the show’s success is the real dramatic
and ground breaking story created between the songs; comic and tragic scenes
that allow Daniel Evans’ smooth and driving direction, to work wonders, with
his talented crew.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdZFEadNSZBoAlCLyuAWayfw7BmfbPTqUo9e2fN-dm6XsJEYoQVBPUp4eqzfdjKVfRKlRKQEkffkT1bQPpJF6u-YuD3uvQ-PjUKhPj7LEzfdGwMWFfk_19TGpz8sOaJUmi-TOULhZ1Ug/s1600/Cg6Kq6NUkAAsuq4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdZFEadNSZBoAlCLyuAWayfw7BmfbPTqUo9e2fN-dm6XsJEYoQVBPUp4eqzfdjKVfRKlRKQEkffkT1bQPpJF6u-YuD3uvQ-PjUKhPj7LEzfdGwMWFfk_19TGpz8sOaJUmi-TOULhZ1Ug/s640/Cg6Kq6NUkAAsuq4.jpg" width="492" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝";">Led by ‘Captain Andy Hawks ‘(Malcolm Sinclair) and his soured wife
‘Parthy Ann’ (Lucy Briers) we are introduced to several other dynamic and often
comic duos such as their daughter ‘Magnolia’ (Gina Beck) who falls in love with
the rogue, ‘Gaylord Ravenal’ (Chris Peluso). They are closely followed by the larger
than life and utterly beautiful ‘Queenie’ (Sandra Marvin) and her lazy but lovely
‘Joe’ (Emmanuel Kojo) along with the showbiz hunting ‘Ellie’ (Alex Young) and the tap
dancing, floppy haired ‘Frank’ (Danny Collins). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOeTg8TY8UQeZCLPz1muUAeRvTCdclnGxdqYjHcxvVl6Ryrb-xgfjDFO_PolsjaAoSRDBbEzEQH5T-YM8PTSY_ZJ54J6IN2OUIQqQkr5EmHGb16i3XUovLyjmmNarC9jRrmBxLqXkHds/s1600/CgGJBq0XIAEZXg8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOeTg8TY8UQeZCLPz1muUAeRvTCdclnGxdqYjHcxvVl6Ryrb-xgfjDFO_PolsjaAoSRDBbEzEQH5T-YM8PTSY_ZJ54J6IN2OUIQqQkr5EmHGb16i3XUovLyjmmNarC9jRrmBxLqXkHds/s640/CgGJBq0XIAEZXg8.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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We are teased, right from the start, by Jerome Kern and Oscar
Hammerstein’s well-known tunes, under the masterful musical direction of Tom Brady, and when they finally come on board, sung to
their full glory by this glorious company, you can’t help but love 'em.
Emmanuel Kojo’s ‘Ol’ Man River’ and the forever hummable ‘I can’t
help lovin’ dat man’ by Rebecca Trehearn and Sandra Marvin are well worth the
ticket price on their own. By the interval, I was glowing with warmth and utter
admiration for this beautiful journey, and couldn’t wait for the second leg.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53Nn2ByQENUKB_3_NiAxL__fiPRuVNy15Y0EVIXKxEiEg40aqz0HdrnsdFZ_jvjOXK-3ckjX63Y5o-OCyy-DuUXWBiM938rxzNDEFn8fqnP3Ml4v4SbyQArTeKE1H9r-oc0AXvpRP6vM/s1600/Sandra-Marvin-as-Queenie-and-Emmanuel-Kojo-as-Joe-in-Show-Boat.-SheffieldTheatres.-Credit-Johan-Persson-Large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53Nn2ByQENUKB_3_NiAxL__fiPRuVNy15Y0EVIXKxEiEg40aqz0HdrnsdFZ_jvjOXK-3ckjX63Y5o-OCyy-DuUXWBiM938rxzNDEFn8fqnP3Ml4v4SbyQArTeKE1H9r-oc0AXvpRP6vM/s640/Sandra-Marvin-as-Queenie-and-Emmanuel-Kojo-as-Joe-in-Show-Boat.-SheffieldTheatres.-Credit-Johan-Persson-Large.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The reveal of Lez Brotherton’s showpiece boat earned a well-deserved
applause, and Evans uses all hands and decks to display his theatrical
artistry. Covering forty years in all, the catwalk of costumes and aged wigs
add the fabulous finishing touches to this memorable musical drama, that
changed the rules of musical history.<br />
<br />
Daniel Evans, …I just can’t help lovin’ dat man’s work too! Chichester,
here I come!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlSeo5VGd7Y5QC93OR0NycSyzXLdUJaGz9KaqSs9HIyAFrDOta2_6AHkTENXiQNu8OINUNq_7wHVsRvTHO9ffpAesnO_xbEKerHyI16lh6xb57SeOE8YkBXPfz3HQYl1tZVUru1fVPhY/s1600/2+show+boat+cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlSeo5VGd7Y5QC93OR0NycSyzXLdUJaGz9KaqSs9HIyAFrDOta2_6AHkTENXiQNu8OINUNq_7wHVsRvTHO9ffpAesnO_xbEKerHyI16lh6xb57SeOE8YkBXPfz3HQYl1tZVUru1fVPhY/s640/2+show+boat+cast.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝";"><a href="http://showboatmusical.co.uk/">Showboat, New London Theatre, ★★★★★</a></span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-64254145635217381772016-04-22T13:40:00.001+01:002016-04-25T13:44:40.303+01:00The Maids, Trafalgar Studios, ★★★★★<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Anyone looking at <a href="http://thejamielloydcompany.com/home">Jamie Lloyd’s</a> current
portfolio of productions would think he might have been possessed by the powers
of darkness! After a long and very successful series of Pinter plays, and <a href="http://thejamielloydcompany.com/our-shows/doctor-faustus">his current encounter with the demonic Doctor,</a> I was very lucky to finally catch
his beautiful production of Genet’s cruel and devilish ‘The Maids’, at the
Trafalgar Studios.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8rPD4FUNDkvb1yE1TpjPxX00d6IeOD1A_0ltwMEon56H-wqSNaKMEqtE-TrS7LYMds1G9GKW0zzM3CN0okzgIIqYPb-fL5dgSV2xgxKLEPC-985zl_Mawgf5RetQmGDFfAiuanrzpXo/s1600/TheMaids-xlarge_trans%252B%252Beo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8rPD4FUNDkvb1yE1TpjPxX00d6IeOD1A_0ltwMEon56H-wqSNaKMEqtE-TrS7LYMds1G9GKW0zzM3CN0okzgIIqYPb-fL5dgSV2xgxKLEPC-985zl_Mawgf5RetQmGDFfAiuanrzpXo/s640/TheMaids-xlarge_trans%252B%252Beo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Before any words were spoken, Soutra Gilmour’s
four poster Pandora’s Box set was teasingly seductive, accompanied by a lively
music track which strongly suggested this was not going to be a <i>“bog standard
version”</i> (to quote my theatrical neighbour’s preference) of this powerful 1947 play.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">As the bedroom was unveiled, showered in
flower petals, we were finally introduced to Solange (Uzo Aduba) and Claire (Zawe
Ashton), grotesquely disguised as their <i>“bitch”</i>,<i>“shit“</i> and <i>“c&*t”</i> mistress.
In an equally grotesque and intentionally disturbing dialogue, we've uncovered two very damaged, disrespected and dangerous servants,
who’s ambition was to commit murder, to gain freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loosely based on the real life story of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christine_and_L%C3%A9a_Papin">French Papin sisters</a> who murdered their employer’s wife in 1933, this controversial
three-hander clearly aims to explain and maybe even apologize for their
actions. <i>“We’re shit”</i>, declares the soured swearing Solange, <i>“And shit can’t
love shit”</i>, clearly proving that the disturbed sisters have nothing to lose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheLGPvpBwu7DPolbPZ0awbBxL8cUBYDfNw2zh1NJfpPdnow4cLZzqmT8WibN1jbNDzySr43YYVlm2ceZL3X8Lr7CL-ZOjphh7PcbTdhFt8wXARGyc6tfe16PswTg1zLyx5H6ds-FOJPeo/s1600/8-The-Maids-Zawe-Ashton-Uzo-Aduba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheLGPvpBwu7DPolbPZ0awbBxL8cUBYDfNw2zh1NJfpPdnow4cLZzqmT8WibN1jbNDzySr43YYVlm2ceZL3X8Lr7CL-ZOjphh7PcbTdhFt8wXARGyc6tfe16PswTg1zLyx5H6ds-FOJPeo/s640/8-The-Maids-Zawe-Ashton-Uzo-Aduba.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Suddenly, the </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1c1c; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Louis-Quinze-</span><span lang="EN-US">Rococo themed room turns into a boxing ring,
as the sisters banter, batters the brutal truths out of their troubled minds. Aduba
and Ashton’s electricity, surely sparking nominations, if not winning the
Theatrical Awards, for their marathon mission to tell this tragic tale. A tear-jerking tribute to all the domestic servants who've sacrificed their
lives for others. </span>Laura Carmichael’s ‘Mistress’ completes this
downstairs, game of freedom.</div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAq3mz4DmwN3pJmrvkxmUuOgTf1fesaFOiU3S8ifCA8JRRp66ZlPe0XVPJjMlA-X-gTptq1KgaZDnRd42q2gsmv5bSimJ9Sr5HYis_YEQfGmTTRwPG_RqV9FPJ8qJcVbjHusX4Dq-MCI/s1600/31D08E2B00000578-3474945-Enter_designer_dressed_Madame_Downton_s_Laura_Carmichael_in_a_pe-a-124_1457112765842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAq3mz4DmwN3pJmrvkxmUuOgTf1fesaFOiU3S8ifCA8JRRp66ZlPe0XVPJjMlA-X-gTptq1KgaZDnRd42q2gsmv5bSimJ9Sr5HYis_YEQfGmTTRwPG_RqV9FPJ8qJcVbjHusX4Dq-MCI/s640/31D08E2B00000578-3474945-Enter_designer_dressed_Madame_Downton_s_Laura_Carmichael_in_a_pe-a-124_1457112765842.jpg" width="552" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Benedict Andrews and Andrew Upton’s
deliberately explicit and explosive translation sings beautifully in Jamie
Lloyd’s masterful production, clearly confirming his undeniable theatrical
powers.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://thejamielloydcompany.com/our-shows/the-maids">The Maids, Trafalgar Studios, ★★★★★</a></span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-52060426799475262902016-04-22T11:28:00.000+01:002016-04-22T11:32:17.621+01:00Jeff Wayne's musical version of The War of the Worlds, Dominion Theatre, ★★<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Liam Neeson, David Essex, Jimmy Nail…
impressive billing, enough to lure anyone to the Dominion Theatre, to witness <a href="http://www.thewaroftheworlds.com/">‘Jeff Wayne’s musical version of The War of the Worlds’</a>. I had no idea what to expect
from this production, and so I kept an open mind, and a closed eye to any
earlier reviews of the show.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Based on the 1897 <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_War_of_the_Worlds">classic science fiction novel by H.G.Wells</a>, Jeff Wayne’s 1978 ‘progressive rock’ musical adaptation of
the work has been a best seller for many years. Its simply a story of how a
spaceship from Mars, crashes to earth, and takes over the world, forcing the
desperate citizens to consider building a new world underground. But don’t
worry, there’s a happy ending, as the bacteria we humans are now relatively
immune to, have the power to kill all the alien forms, and supposedly live
happily ever after. There’s also an epilogue, based in NASA, warning us of the
possibility of a re-visit in the future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">As the curtain rises, we are introduced to
the impressive live orchestra, filling the stage, with the aforementioned 72-year-old
Jeff Wayne, as musical director. I instantly recognized his dramatic main theme
‘The Eve of War’, brilliantly blasted out by his string section. But then the
problems started…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I knew that I wasn’t going to see Liam
Neeson in the flesh, so I had prepared myself for his projected and much
publicized ‘3D holography’, which introduced us to the story. One by one, the
ensemble entered the apron stage in front of the orchestra, hamming it to the
hills, of the impending danger. This clearly was not a musical drama, but an
orchestral concert accompanied by a spoken narrative, projected images, a few
spectacular fiery effects and a large redundant ensemble whose only purpose was
to fill the apron. Having mentally registered that fact, I sat back in my seat,
and tried my best to enjoy the show, but I just couldn’t. It all felt like such
a mess, and I felt so sorry for the ensemble, led by Essex and Nail, who’s
one-song-wonders didn’t even work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">With such a powerful and dramatic story, it’s
just a shame that the vast money spent on the ‘show’ had not been invested in a
proper staged adaptation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all felt
dated and deflated, and the real ‘war’ was with the music as it drowned everything
on stage, even Neeson’s contributions. Sadly, the music didn’t even warrant this
expensive wasted opportunity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.thewaroftheworlds.com/">Jeff Wayne's musical version of The War of the Worlds, Dominion Theatre, ★★</a></span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-36069404065993779992016-04-19T13:07:00.001+01:002016-04-19T14:10:16.824+01:00Hand to God, Vaudeville Theatre, ★★★★<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">With both <a href="http://www.broadway.com/buzz/awards/tony-awards/nominees/579/hand-to-god/">Tony</a> and <a href="http://www.olivierawards.com/nominations/view/item274587/best-new-comedy/">Olivier</a> nominations to hand, Robert Askins' ‘Hand to God’ was an appealing choice at the Vaudeville
Theatre, on the Strand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu12Troa0m_u10RwRVUTbZQ_lKhWbWbJnt2fgZ_Do7AXFjASPXYbGVZlPcmNeQD6_r2OZwzwEAiARRgoEbPaHVHdCLuP9W8gyDQAO1aBEhV5I7_Cv83J9B-DsRUSTb7o699EvgrFwuwbk/s1600/4-Hand-To-God-London.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu12Troa0m_u10RwRVUTbZQ_lKhWbWbJnt2fgZ_Do7AXFjASPXYbGVZlPcmNeQD6_r2OZwzwEAiARRgoEbPaHVHdCLuP9W8gyDQAO1aBEhV5I7_Cv83J9B-DsRUSTb7o699EvgrFwuwbk/s640/4-Hand-To-God-London.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Set in an American Church Hall, mainly used
by recently widowed ‘Margery’ (Janie Dee) for her teenage puppet group, its
clear from the prologue that things are not as holy as they seem. Her son
‘Jason’ (Harry Melling ) along with his lively sock-puppet ‘Tyrone’ have both
been taken over by a demonic destructive presence, which, after a very slow
start, turns this trauma into a hilarious dark comedy. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVeG15XJv0cpiy9Kh5OJwds4F4EsfFr8Cu8Pi4gNBMMkfEsfLwO1FqZa8qjd6aVAd4bURxRaku0YmK7zMIJ_wR7nlfNSwNsv4F0fQI63nY4OLFhcRvQPPFNk-Ehj-_DZ_ECU1scyPAllw/s1600/Hand-to-God-Vaudeville-Theatre-Photo-Tristram-Kenton-03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVeG15XJv0cpiy9Kh5OJwds4F4EsfFr8Cu8Pi4gNBMMkfEsfLwO1FqZa8qjd6aVAd4bURxRaku0YmK7zMIJ_wR7nlfNSwNsv4F0fQI63nY4OLFhcRvQPPFNk-Ehj-_DZ_ECU1scyPAllw/s640/Hand-to-God-Vaudeville-Theatre-Photo-Tristram-Kenton-03.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Trying to sort it all
out (but also seduce poor Margery) is ‘Pastor Greg’ (Neil Pearson) and good
looking lag ‘Timothy’ (Kevin Mains), both of whom fail miserably at both
tasks. With the imminent arrival of the
Sunday Service deadline and no sign of any kind of Biblically themed puppet
show to put on, Margery’s world comes crashing down, leaving only dowdy
‘Jessica’ (Jemima Rooper) to try and rescue Jason.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOEA9Do29NqEY40pnDB2-YvH2iqkBNdw-0xAvZjWU2qUbNQJemxgEl5QjhJVrpw9JfF8gueHXLgNlaAQ-rfK2vmJF_bP2-6CVI1nRQL6QHgpVr9P1_SnDtAOW_KNbFEUxA056j5OnKqrg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-04-19+at+13.04.12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOEA9Do29NqEY40pnDB2-YvH2iqkBNdw-0xAvZjWU2qUbNQJemxgEl5QjhJVrpw9JfF8gueHXLgNlaAQ-rfK2vmJF_bP2-6CVI1nRQL6QHgpVr9P1_SnDtAOW_KNbFEUxA056j5OnKqrg/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-04-19+at+13.04.12.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Once we got going, this brilliant company
of five, who did feel lost and lonely on the vast Vaudeville stage, happily
carried me along. Maybe a smaller, cosier venue would have been better,
especially as the sock puppets that played such a prominent part, were so
petite. The concept, albeit totally
crazy, worked, and the inclusion of the prologue and epilogue gave the
absurdity a much needed deeper meaning. It’s not an easy piece to watch, but
well worth it, if only to witness an utterly breathtaking portrayal by Harry
Melling of the possessed son.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazylIqieNvU97qwW5AdYhpKaKHmFS50oMe91d9EHl8m2TC_UpWTcSTxp2B46vBV9_KGm8qcVBJM1ndRZF2E50lTUwQvDOuXyxGIp8xT9mI-qi8LVM2MoKT3ZojJMFyeXZW_UvH00NHaQ/s1600/L-R-Harry-Melling-Jason-and-Tyrone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazylIqieNvU97qwW5AdYhpKaKHmFS50oMe91d9EHl8m2TC_UpWTcSTxp2B46vBV9_KGm8qcVBJM1ndRZF2E50lTUwQvDOuXyxGIp8xT9mI-qi8LVM2MoKT3ZojJMFyeXZW_UvH00NHaQ/s640/L-R-Harry-Melling-Jason-and-Tyrone.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://handtogod.co.uk/">Hand to God, Vaudeville Theatre, ★★★★</a></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-44980244412831117232016-04-17T12:12:00.001+01:002016-04-17T12:21:23.252+01:00The Brink , Orange Tree Theatre ★★★<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3J-XLpLx-26E2vSUgF9eaj5wx5ERKYAhdcU4nakJ9kVH_IXvJBjAdmyJ7B1vKtQi-ZGIHwzZPSw-uam3y9yGdUDka4J4KWDZSzNIFzbRBk5oYvISMHgPc00PgLTSFGuhWdfHIGxlUJ8/s1600/4332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3J-XLpLx-26E2vSUgF9eaj5wx5ERKYAhdcU4nakJ9kVH_IXvJBjAdmyJ7B1vKtQi-ZGIHwzZPSw-uam3y9yGdUDka4J4KWDZSzNIFzbRBk5oYvISMHgPc00PgLTSFGuhWdfHIGxlUJ8/s640/4332.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">‘The Brink’ marked my first visit to the
<a href="https://www.orangetreetheatre.co.uk/whats-on">Orange Tree Theatre</a> in Richmond; it also marked my first visit to the work of
fellow Welshman, Brad Birch. The play follows ‘Nick’ (Ciar</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">á</span><span lang="EN-US">n Owens), a teacher at a local comprehensive school, who, as the
title of the play suggests, is basically on the brink of some kind of nervous
breakdown. Throughout the play, we (or he), aren’t too sure what mental illness
he’s living with. Is it depression, anxiety, stress or has he just been caught
up in the ‘mess’ of a ‘modern’ world? And that’s a major part of my problem
with the play. Unlike <a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.co.uk/2007/05/wonderful-word-of-dissocia.html">Nielson’s delirious Dissocia</a>, or <a href="http://www.donmarwarehouse.com/en/whats-on/donmar-warehouse/2014/privacy.aspx">James Graham’s problematic Privacy</a>, I was left, literally on the brink, with no resolution or
conclusion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pSogbDfmotVLamQejVpChh6E011Qw5OdyK2FKXwfuiXU3BRPKG5T2VsUmeULp-qwIwwv7WCzujsU7pZmwfjKFY-5NTQ8pgpSf9ErifBYN42aKc9Df2B8URNcs65-9IdbWhqYaa8v9b8/s1600/thebrink1204a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pSogbDfmotVLamQejVpChh6E011Qw5OdyK2FKXwfuiXU3BRPKG5T2VsUmeULp-qwIwwv7WCzujsU7pZmwfjKFY-5NTQ8pgpSf9ErifBYN42aKc9Df2B8URNcs65-9IdbWhqYaa8v9b8/s640/thebrink1204a.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">But the ‘brink’ also represents an actual
geographical space in the school fields where in Nick’s dreams, lies a hidden
secret; some sinister presence that results in quite graphic visions of
destruction and death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The headmaster
(Vince Leigh), who confides in Nick, that below the brink lay an unexploded
World War Two bomb, confirms his vision. Delirious that his dreams may well be
an apocalyptic actuality of the future, it causes major malfunction in all
areas of Nick’s life, leaving him on an empty stage of cinders. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Up to this point, I could empathize with him
all the way. Were all these crazy encounters with the sinister headmaster
reality or just figments of his irrational state of mind? Was there really a ‘bomb’, was there really a school...? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep2fZe6bVZzYGz-IG3s2-VI1DGttjxs24IchaDuy-mkC36ygBPmM2O5PtTJn77emn8OGfNLomZ15h9ODAI8jRyCf2UItIC_5YECNcw_oaVuQE3xGL77bacyQmW93iKrtUnXwuMo13w-w/s1600/Vince-Leigh-Shvorne-Marks-Ciara%25CC%2581n-Owens-and-Alice-Haig-in-The-Brink-by-Brad-Birch_Orange-Tree-Theatre_photo-Helen-Warner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep2fZe6bVZzYGz-IG3s2-VI1DGttjxs24IchaDuy-mkC36ygBPmM2O5PtTJn77emn8OGfNLomZ15h9ODAI8jRyCf2UItIC_5YECNcw_oaVuQE3xGL77bacyQmW93iKrtUnXwuMo13w-w/s640/Vince-Leigh-Shvorne-Marks-Ciara%25CC%2581n-Owens-and-Alice-Haig-in-The-Brink-by-Brad-Birch_Orange-Tree-Theatre_photo-Helen-Warner.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">As a fellow playwright, the one question
that has always scared me is ‘what are you trying to say in your play?’. In my
younger days, I was always quick to reply with a cocky ‘isn’t that up to the
audience to tell me?!’. Now in my forties, after an unexpected and unsuccessful
suicide attempt, my earlier work makes sense. I guess that’s why I could
empathize so well with poor Nick, who clearly needed psychological support. Not
once in the play, was this support offered; not from his workplace or his
partner. We were left to ultimately laugh at his demolition and final
destruction, which is why I question the message or meaning of the play. If
Birch had followed Nielson’s pro forma, with a follow up, second act diagnosis
or resolution, then maybe I’d have a higher appreciation of the value of the 80
minutes I’d witnessed. Without it, it did feel unfinished, and almost a comedy
cop-out of such an important issue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">As a theatrical piece, it was well received.
Clever, quick and comic dialogue fast paced and beautifully choreographed by Carolina
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">Vald</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-themecolor: text1;">és. It’s just a shame that Birch has not yet ventured over the brink, to
possibly answer or address some of his brilliant ideas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><a href="https://www.orangetreetheatre.co.uk/whats-on/the-brink/cast">The Brink, Orange Tree Theatre until 30th April</a>. </span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-35632191851275931652016-04-04T17:47:00.000+01:002016-04-17T12:21:33.579+01:00How the other half loves, Theatre Royal Haymarket ★★<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2l8g0OBJlJWIkMNqlZhnIpYeuRzPV6U6KWrLAf9I_1dOzCA2q1SYWfZj6r1LkLi-NcjIAsfZnioDmt7JCktUbbDDLnYbuMNpELwB-Ly-iVYX0amw9Pv71iIwg6F6Dp_gTZv_zYvzUkU/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-04-04+at+17.03.51.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2l8g0OBJlJWIkMNqlZhnIpYeuRzPV6U6KWrLAf9I_1dOzCA2q1SYWfZj6r1LkLi-NcjIAsfZnioDmt7JCktUbbDDLnYbuMNpELwB-Ly-iVYX0amw9Pv71iIwg6F6Dp_gTZv_zYvzUkU/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-04-04+at+17.03.51.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Alan Ayckbourn - the marmite of melodrama! You know what you’re going to get, so I can only blame myself for not being in
the mood for a good-old-fashioned farce of misunderstandings and never ending
‘moider’. I gave this production a chance; impressive cast, great theatre, cheap
tickets, but same old scenarios which now feels dated and deflated. It’s
a very clever play, a real theatrical gem from the 79 plays he’s written. But I
was bored, genuinely confused and almost fell asleep (as my thespian neighbour did!)
during the painfully long, milking of the comedy. A very brave effort by this
committed company to breathe reality into these comic caricatures, but it all
felt too strained and convenient for my liking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGD3sXW6V-n1dooW2LB6RQ8iy2-0DGdMphplV-cp1NABBEtkEwUFt3wf-r7XAOX0qB_AHtlmxoj5PfH8X-SbY4kvu6TrT3lM0TPcRKgUT7usvrR_n3g7uL5G275JmIorb_4X4zTdhIQN0/s1600/C5EA53E7-A2F3-CEAE-3A24F6C72D040C29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGD3sXW6V-n1dooW2LB6RQ8iy2-0DGdMphplV-cp1NABBEtkEwUFt3wf-r7XAOX0qB_AHtlmxoj5PfH8X-SbY4kvu6TrT3lM0TPcRKgUT7usvrR_n3g7uL5G275JmIorb_4X4zTdhIQN0/s320/C5EA53E7-A2F3-CEAE-3A24F6C72D040C29.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
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Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-46572548958847958302015-08-14T11:04:00.000+01:002015-08-14T11:04:00.569+01:00'Gypsy'<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Y Cymro 14/08/15<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Tra bod pawb arall yn
heidio tua mwynder Maldwyn, llusgo’n hun i’r Savoy wnes i (dan frathiad go
hegar o enau’r ‘ci du’) er mwyn ymuno yn y llu sydd eisoes wedi canmol portread
‘perffaith’ Imelda Staunton o ‘Rose’ yn y ddrama gerdd ‘Gypsy’.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXgHXMemLoX9rwHVU8JUJ6i8oQFhQdVk3dGmZ0LM8z-zmo7Zy7ibPsmh6nAJZJCDwIcOnRcS2ey4BVQWDm7aeNhIZ_xlHtUx67QC7N-jwmMnyYIBTok-_F6ORyhbo8iY7t8dC9yRC7WU/s1600/Gypsy_210x148_A5_Image+-+LOW+RES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXgHXMemLoX9rwHVU8JUJ6i8oQFhQdVk3dGmZ0LM8z-zmo7Zy7ibPsmh6nAJZJCDwIcOnRcS2ey4BVQWDm7aeNhIZ_xlHtUx67QC7N-jwmMnyYIBTok-_F6ORyhbo8iY7t8dC9yRC7WU/s320/Gypsy_210x148_A5_Image+-+LOW+RES.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Wythnos briodol iawn i
weld y sioe wefreiddiol hon am fam ‘eisteddfodol’ sy’n mynnu gwthio ei
‘phlant’, ac yn arbennig felly ei merch ei hun – y ‘Jane’ benfelen berffaith yn
gyntaf, ac wedyn yr enwog<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Gypsy Rose
Lee’ i lygaid y llwyfan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Er gwaetha pawb
a phopeth, a’r ffaith hynod o greulon nad oes gronyn o dalent yn perthyn i’w
ddwy, mae’r ‘Rose’ gegog a llawn hyder yn ddall o realiti’r sefyllfa. Y
gwirionedd creulon sy’n codi dagrau diffuant iawn erbyn y diwedd yw mai
methiant gyrfa’r fam sy’n gyfrifol am wthio a bwlio’r ‘plant’ o flaen
cynulleidfaoedd Vaudeville'r cyfnod.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Er imi brynu tocyn dros
flwyddyn yn ôl i weld y sioe yn ei <a href="http://www.cft.org.uk/whatson">chartref chwarelyddol creadigol yng Ngŵyl Chichester</a>, methais â chyrraedd y fan honno, a bûm yn cicio’n hun am flwyddyn
gyfa am fethu’r wledd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Erbyn hyn, mae’r
tocynnau fatha aur, a’r prif reswm heb os nag oni bai ydi portread gwefreiddiol
Imelda Staunton sy’n hawlio’r llwyfan o’r cychwyn hyd dduwch y diwedd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Un o’r portreadau hynny sy’n gyrru iâs oer i
lawr y cefn, ac yn naddu’i le haeddiannol yn y cof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Erbyn diwedd yr Act Gyntaf, a’i ‘phlant’ wedi
ffoi,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a’r dyfodol yn edrych yn unig ac
oer, mae ei datganiad di-fai o’r gân glasurol ‘Everything’s Coming Up Roses’ yn
ein paratoi’n berffaith ar gyfer corwynt yr ail act.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlNyYzigeYy0JemOKfzmvNFFEpTywdHa5eek_tvxl0AwZETz_YPORYLaZ0VUjbbs1oDa2NYgKpuPNYfRh8c7iL62i6VAg0rVc8r1DgQj6JI5KBXuyU4n5Hqh_GW341ciT-G8xh5Lugmo/s1600/9-Imelda-Staunton-Lara-Pulver-Gypsy-Musical-London.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlNyYzigeYy0JemOKfzmvNFFEpTywdHa5eek_tvxl0AwZETz_YPORYLaZ0VUjbbs1oDa2NYgKpuPNYfRh8c7iL62i6VAg0rVc8r1DgQj6JI5KBXuyU4n5Hqh_GW341ciT-G8xh5Lugmo/s400/9-Imelda-Staunton-Lara-Pulver-Gypsy-Musical-London.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Ar gwrs ffilm
ryngwladol sawl blwyddyn yn ôl, mi ddysgais am bwysigrwydd taith y prif
gymeriad, ddylai fod yn ddigon cryf i gynnal diddordeb y gynulleidfa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cyfrinach y daith (a llwyddiant y stori) yw
lle i gychwyn y daith, er mwyn caniatáu digon o filltiroedd emosiynol i’w
godro. Byddai rhai yn dadlau bod ‘Rose’ druan wedi cyrraedd diwedd ei thaith ar
gychwyn y sioe. Ond cryfder cywaith Jule Styne, Stephen Sondheim ac Arthur
Laurents yw gwthio’r cymeriad i’w eithaf, a gogoniant Imelda Staunton yw
cyfiawnhau pob eiliad o’r daith ddramatig honno.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mae’r sioe hefyd yn
llawn o ganeuon adnabyddus sy’n fêl i’r glust fel ‘Some People’, ‘Together,
Wherever we go’, ‘Small World’ a’r anfarwol ‘Everything’s Coming up
Roses’. Llifai môr o atgofion yn ôl am
Iola Gregory yn y ffilm wych ‘Rhosyn a Rhith’ wrth geisio achub ei sinema leol;
y diweddar Cilla Black, Lilly Savage (Paul O’Grady) a Barbara Windsor yn
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0LOIGfjcxZE">ail-fyw’r gân adnabyddus arall ‘You Gotta Get a Gimmick’ ar lwyfan y Royal Vareity</a>; a mam yn fy ngorfodi fel plentyn 8 oed i wisgo fel ‘Gypsy Rose Lee’ a
minna fawr callach mai seren striptease oedd prif enwogrwydd honno!!</div>
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Yn seiliedig ar
atgofion ‘Gypsy Rose Lee’ am ei mam o 1957, mae’r ddrama gerdd yn cael ei
harddel fel un o’r goreuon, a hynny gan amla’ yng nghyswllt portreadau anfarwol
y goreuon o’r ‘fwystfil o fam’ neu’r ‘fam llwyfan eithafol’ sy’n cynnwys Ethel Merman, Angela Landsbury, Patti LuPone,
Bette Midler a bellach Imelda Staunton.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Mae yna ambell docyn ar
gael, gyda’r rhataf (yng nghefn y stalls) am gyn lleied â £24.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ond mae’n rhaid i’r llen terfynol ddisgyn ar
y 28ain o Dachwedd eleni, cyn i Imelda Druan ddisgyn yn un swp, wedi’r daith
emosiynol, angerddol a chwbl drydanol.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-68369689071338035732015-07-24T11:37:00.000+01:002015-07-24T11:37:00.069+01:00'Alpha Beta'<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US">Y Cymro<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>24/07/15<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Tybed faint ohonoch sy’n cofio John Ogwen a
Maureen Rhys yn portreadu’r gŵr a’r wraig wrthryfelgar yng nghyfieithiad
Gwenlyn Parry o ddrama Ted Whitehead, ‘Alpha Beta’? Yn y Royal Court ym 1972 y
llwyfannwyd y gwreiddiol dadleuol a phrin iawn iawn bu’r cynyrchiadau ohoni
wedi hynny. Diolch byth am y perl o theatr fechan y Finborough sy’n enwog am
ail-lwyfannu’r clasuron coll yma, sy’n llyfrgell werthfawr o lenyddiaeth y
llwyfan.<br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mvKl2M5nSq0v_DiBbcGvqoM38I1MOEi6VnNxny1_0WA5cz4m6YwbBkSwbgqNW6BV9ZtiTdTybLxhsYc7ufHf3yO3sdrlBjGXHXbtI3-vc8imH98lxYDWBD0lPfOxNm7_AL3mGisSPFg/s1600/SKMBT_C224e15072211281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mvKl2M5nSq0v_DiBbcGvqoM38I1MOEi6VnNxny1_0WA5cz4m6YwbBkSwbgqNW6BV9ZtiTdTybLxhsYc7ufHf3yO3sdrlBjGXHXbtI3-vc8imH98lxYDWBD0lPfOxNm7_AL3mGisSPFg/s400/SKMBT_C224e15072211281.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawlfraint Archifdy Gwynedd / Theatr Cymru</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Frank a Norma Elliot yw’r cwpl priod sy’n amlwg
yn cael anhawster mawr i fyw gyda’i gilydd ac wedyn ar wahan. ‘Cignoeth’ a
‘chreulon’ oedd yn poenydio fy sylw drwy gydol y tair act, wrth i’r ddrama
geisio adlewyrchu onestrwydd neu ffug barchusrwydd y briodas draddodiadol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Wrth gamu dros drothwy’r theatr 60 sedd sy’n hen
gyfarwydd imi bellach, cefais sioc bleserus iawn o weld goruwch ystafell y
dafarn fechan wedi’i weddnewid i fod yn fflat foethus, fodern, wen a chlinigol
Mr a Mrs Elliot. Roedd hi’n amlwg fod cynhyrchiad Purni Morell am ein gwahodd i
ganol bywyd a gwrthdaro’r ddau. Cawsom ein hannog i eistedd ble y mynnem, a’r
dewis helaeth yn cynnwys soffa foethus lwyd, bwrdd bwyd a chadeiriau modern,
meinciau pren gwladaidd (ffug modern!) neu ar riniog y ffenest<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lydan. O’n cwmpas roedd amrywiaeth o lampau
cyfoes o bob lliw a llun, a golau naturiol yn ffrydio drwy ffenestri niwlog y
gofod. A bod yn gwbl onest efo chi, faswn i wedi medru mudo’n hawdd iawn i’r hafan
fodern glyd, nepell o fonedd Chelsea!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOayZxcLAdKjhS_QUiPU3uVSEvZ_uYSZFiWIJzohdz_F17WMcaW9nDnLXFCOP1czi_3VwtKrqWvhRahbPmFEWiN6eonArmFYAo3HQoY1XV9w6auJVXb1rf1EIUGOc8pOvwF07lXwhcUMQ/s1600/CI-xE0EWoAAz4--.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOayZxcLAdKjhS_QUiPU3uVSEvZ_uYSZFiWIJzohdz_F17WMcaW9nDnLXFCOP1czi_3VwtKrqWvhRahbPmFEWiN6eonArmFYAo3HQoY1XV9w6auJVXb1rf1EIUGOc8pOvwF07lXwhcUMQ/s400/CI-xE0EWoAAz4--.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Pan ddychwel Frank (Christian Roe) adref ar
gychwyn y ddrama, mae’n amlwg o’i osgo a’i ymddygiad bod coelcerth o dân gwyllt
yn mudlosgi oddi mewn. Felly hefyd gyda’i wraig Norma (Tracy Ifeachor) sydd
wrthi’n brysur yn gwyngalchu’r muriau’r ‘cartref’. Dro ar ôl tro, roeddwn yn
gwingo dan orthrwm y gŵr ac yna yn cael fy ngwylltio gan boen meddwl y wraig.
Carchar o gariad creulon sy’n<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bwlio’r
gynulleidfa i ochri gyda’r naill neu’r llall, dro ar ôl tro. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOQnE5Aod0KFvM27z1kbRWuduK8sPKng1E0Kzx2jk5J5sYO0S9_OUmkVR8-BUg9ZjeI_b5Ogue6TLirEejEnH5CDas9v3a2a5ldXxQrVnc2a8Y_3jov3oajeiIC4Crwne0yap8Tyd2CI/s1600/1ef7c186-b791-4a67-9ea3-1b45f408ed6e-2060x1236.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOQnE5Aod0KFvM27z1kbRWuduK8sPKng1E0Kzx2jk5J5sYO0S9_OUmkVR8-BUg9ZjeI_b5Ogue6TLirEejEnH5CDas9v3a2a5ldXxQrVnc2a8Y_3jov3oajeiIC4Crwne0yap8Tyd2CI/s400/1ef7c186-b791-4a67-9ea3-1b45f408ed6e-2060x1236.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Er nad oeddwn wedi camu i run theatr (nac yn wir
wedi gadael y groth!) pan lwyfannwyd y gwreiddiol, mae’r ddrama’n parhau i fod
yn astudiaeth greulon (neu rhy onest efallai?) o’r stad briodasol. Yr
hunanoldeb materol o fethu byw arwahan, (morgais, plant, cartref a char) ac
eto'r angen ysbrydol a chorfforol am ryddid rhywiol, llonyddwch ac asbri
hwyl!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deunydd deugain mlynedd oed<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sy’n dal yn gyfoes yn yr oes hon o ysgariad
neu’r ‘open relationships’ bondigrybwyll sy’n bla ymysg cyplau ifanc, wedi’u
dal yn y Wê o ddewis dyddiol.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQC_mmze4Vd3gyMzG5-TqCQrIINvU38LjRP1u0nIDCftbfsA9zE53_3yP_kvXUwxBHLraaaXaLmkI0v62QetPA3qXWEU-wHJD-J8oJ6IjcRlfXeZluo1HNBcWS7HL9hJuweKx39XN0tw/s1600/Christian+Roe+and+Tracy+Ifeachor+photo+Giulia+Savorelli+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQC_mmze4Vd3gyMzG5-TqCQrIINvU38LjRP1u0nIDCftbfsA9zE53_3yP_kvXUwxBHLraaaXaLmkI0v62QetPA3qXWEU-wHJD-J8oJ6IjcRlfXeZluo1HNBcWS7HL9hJuweKx39XN0tw/s400/Christian+Roe+and+Tracy+Ifeachor+photo+Giulia+Savorelli+%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Diddorol oedd darllen am brofiad John Ogwen yn
Aberystwyth gyda’r ddrama <i>”…o’r dechrau teimlai’r ddau ohonom (a thrafodwyd hyn
yn ystod yr egwyl gyntaf) fod y gynulleidfa’n ochri gormod gyda’r gŵr ffraeth
miniog ei dafod, a rhywsut ddim eisiau gweld safbwynt y wraig. O ddechrau’r ail
act, gan ddefnyddio’r un ddeialog, wrth reswm pawb, rhoddais fwy o gasineb yn y
dweud. Teimlodd y ddau ohonom y gynulleidfa’n dechrau newid a’r syniad yn tyfu
yn eu plith fod bai mawr o’r ddwy ochr am y tor-priodas yn y ddrama”. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Drwy gydol y tair act – sy’n cael ei lifo’n un
cyfanwaith 90 munud yma, cefais fy nhynnu o un ochr i’r llall gan gyfarwyddo ac
actio medrus y cwmni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ai salwch meddwl y
wraig oedd i’w feio ta brynti’r gŵr? Ai brynti blacmel y wraig sy’n carcharu
rhyddid y gŵr? Cyfoeth o haenau diddiwedd y nionyn, sy’n siŵr o dynnu dagrau.
Gwych iawn.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Yn anffodus, mae’r cynhyrchiad wedi dod i ben
erbyn hyn. Tybed ydi hi’n bryd am ail-lwyfaniad o’r gwreiddiol Gymraeg…? Neu o
leia cael gweld John a Maureen ar lwyfan eto…?!</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-8683852196812972992015-07-17T12:29:00.000+01:002015-07-22T11:40:59.714+01:00'King Charles III'<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US">Y Cymro 17/07/15<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US">Roeddwn i wedi bwriadu bwrw golwg dros yr arlwy ragorol sydd ar
ddigwydd yn yr <a href="https://tickets.edfringe.com/?gclid=CjwKEAjwiZitBRCy0pb3rIbG9XwSJACmuvvzHUj2wnkjlKD3UYSeVp9hMCh80vCs2znhsbGY_1zwgRoCyHzw_wcB">ŵyl ‘ffrinj’ ymylol</a> eleni, ond roedd hynny cyn imi gael y cyfle
i ail-glywed drama, ac yn wir cynhyrchiad weles i’n Llundain ma, rai misoedd yn
ôl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US">Dwi wedi dewis i sôn am y ddrama wych ‘King Charles III’ a gafodd ei
lwyfannu’n wreiddiol yn yr <a href="http://www.almeida.co.uk/">Almeida</a>, cyn cael ei ail-lwyfannu ynghanol y ddinas.
Roeddwn i mor hapus o glywed bod <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3">BBC Radio 3</a> wedi dewis addasu’r clasur cyfoes
hwn, a gafodd ei ddarlledu nos Sul diwethaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEK7funC6IcyCMCOASrjhl17V-sef8lcQnKV_0PEEQK8pLYkpJJj4CN0688b6U9OAFT-Kr45Crmt8YHdnvkxEV0DYkoSC52Dl0NjkBwASBWwE9UJhM82atkQNCjVCi61oeF4IoPS7THs/s1600/KC3-1055-Tim-Pigott-Smith-Adam-James-Oliver-Chris-and-Richard-Goulding-by-Johan-Persson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEK7funC6IcyCMCOASrjhl17V-sef8lcQnKV_0PEEQK8pLYkpJJj4CN0688b6U9OAFT-Kr45Crmt8YHdnvkxEV0DYkoSC52Dl0NjkBwASBWwE9UJhM82atkQNCjVCi61oeF4IoPS7THs/s400/KC3-1055-Tim-Pigott-Smith-Adam-James-Oliver-Chris-and-Richard-Goulding-by-Johan-Persson.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">‘Beth petai…?’ oedd man cychwyn sawl nofel i’r
diweddar Eirug Wyn, a beth petai’r Frenhines Elizabeth II yn marw?, yw man
cychwyn drama wych Mike Bartlett. Fe agorodd y cynhyrchiad gyda requiem
draddodiadol yn cael ei ganu yng ngolau cannwyll gan y cast cyfan. Requiem
angladdol y Frenhines bresennol, cyn i’r cecru a’r hanes dychmygol (sy’n
anghysurus o real) gychwyn rhwng y Llywodraeth Brydeinig a’i disgynnydd, y
Brenin Charles III (Tim Pigott-Smith) a’i wraig Camilla (Margot
Leicester).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cyn i’r cymeriadau gael eu
henwi ar lwyfan, (ac yn fwy felly o’r fersiwn radio) roedd yr eironi o wybod am
fywydau real y cymeriadau hanesyddol a chyfoes yma, yn donnau diddiwedd o
is-themâu a dyfnder dramatig.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGkCliXPTXqWOkyQKwTWrLlq8LnFIXpNIUB4nWVwgFn1-A4Eo4xdOQBSZYXhQ7JMuFjzbggaAFfxUHb83xLZ0bC3SQSDBAz8r6Dylh3t9yGG8EYHW0tl9S55SSpqAJ0NRHia4WMBuw5Y/s1600/2014-04-11-KingCharlesIIITimPigottSmithbyJohanPersson2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGkCliXPTXqWOkyQKwTWrLlq8LnFIXpNIUB4nWVwgFn1-A4Eo4xdOQBSZYXhQ7JMuFjzbggaAFfxUHb83xLZ0bC3SQSDBAz8r6Dylh3t9yGG8EYHW0tl9S55SSpqAJ0NRHia4WMBuw5Y/s400/2014-04-11-KingCharlesIIITimPigottSmithbyJohanPersson2.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Mawredd y ddrama imi ydi camp Bartlett i’w
gyfansoddi ym mhatrwm barddoniaeth Shakespeare – llinellau deg sillaf gydag
ambell odl bwrpasol sy’n tanlinellu’r gic! Roedd hyn yn gwbl fwriadol, ac yn
agor wedi hynny ar gyfoeth o gyfeiriadaeth am drasiedïau hanesyddol y Meistr ei
hun, gan gynnwys y Brenin Llŷr, Macbeth, Henry IV, V a VI a llawer mwy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Campwaith yr addasiad radio ydi medru creu’r
darlun ac awgrym gyda sain a cherddoriaeth bwrpasol, yn enwedig felly gyda
presenoldeb yr ysbryd Diana, sy’n dychwelyd i rybuddio a chynghori ei chyn-ŵr
a’i meibion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Dro ar ôl tro, yn ystod y perfformiad ac yn fwy
felly yn nhawelwch fy nychymyg wrth wrando ar y wledd eiriol weledol drwy
donfeddi’r radio (gwledd y byddwn i’n wir yn annog i hunan-bwysigion BBC Radio
Cymru WRANDO arno a DYSGU ohono!), cefais wefr o wybod am wirionedd posib yr
hyn oedd yn digwydd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mae’r geiriau yn
gyforiog o gyfeiriadaeth a’r arlliw ac awgrym o drasiedïau’r gorffennol, yn
fwynhad pur. Fel gyda’r rhybuddion dirifedi am berygl pŵer a hunan hyder yn
nhrasiedïau’r Groegiaid, a fyddai’n gyfarwydd i ganran fechan o gynulleidfa
Shakespeare, mae troad y rhod i ninnau'r un mor bwerus.<br />
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyISTj61DyamPh9E8ycU16V7G1EcmDOmOoTYyfA5eXD-o5DmwZtQOPG0YVWixbp66WIAB5o-p4QoOF9Ly41zsvj5psKtoHKKfOaqyoZiWho95AtVn1MaNbs1wOVm-VNM3o9u-zUQhP6kU/s1600/King-Charles-III-014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyISTj61DyamPh9E8ycU16V7G1EcmDOmOoTYyfA5eXD-o5DmwZtQOPG0YVWixbp66WIAB5o-p4QoOF9Ly41zsvj5psKtoHKKfOaqyoZiWho95AtVn1MaNbs1wOVm-VNM3o9u-zUQhP6kU/s400/King-Charles-III-014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Beth bynnag fo’ch chwaeth wleidyddol am y teulu
breintiedig hwn, dyma ddrama sydd yn agor y drws ar drafodaeth a rhagwelediad
posib o’r hyn a all ddigwydd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beth fydd
ein tynged wedi colli’r teyrn fu’n ‘gofalu’ drosom (neu fu’n godro’r system?!)
am 63 o flynyddoedd? A hithau bellach wedi teyrnasu am gyfnod hirach nag oedran
llawer i wleidydd presennol, beth fydd ymateb y llywodraeth pan fydd olynydd
newydd yn cael ei goroni?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mae’r ddrama’n
archwilio’r tir ffrwyddlon hwn, ac yn ôl Bartlett ei hun, wedi ei orfodi i
archwilio’r ‘beth petai…?’ o bob cyfeiriad. Tybed os mai gwir (a theg?) yw’r
honiad bod ateb i bopeth drwy fynd yn ôl dros hanes yr hyn a fu?<br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Os na chawsoch gyfle i glywed y ddrama dros y penwythnos, rwy’n eich
annog i geisio ei <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b061fmty">glywed ar wefan BBC Radio 3</a>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mae’r ddrama ar gael i ‘wrando eto’ am dros 20
diwrnod, o’r wythnos hon. Plîs gwnewch…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130075747142739877.post-58881271079310067782015-07-10T20:28:00.000+01:002016-04-04T16:55:48.552+01:00'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night time' & 'Death of a Salesman'<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US">Y Cymro 10/07/15<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Y tro dwetha imi weld Siôn Daniel Young (yn ei
drôns) ar lwyfan oedd yng nghynhyrchiad gwreiddiol Sherman Cymru o ddrama
Dafydd James, <a href="http://paulpesda.blogspot.co.uk/2010/04/llwyth.html">‘Llwyth’</a>. Siôn oedd yn portreadu’r llanc ifanc hoyw bymtheg oed,
ac yntau bryd hynny, eisoes ar ei ail flwyddyn yn Academi Frenhinol yr
Alban.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Erbyn hyn, mae Siôn yn serennu
yng nghynhyrchiad gwych y National Theatre o ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog
in the Nighttime’ .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilozj5iGrBBzMf_LsjN19le503EohW48XQ4PeAHuvn1JNTl4U66agNbASy1N4yeDvsfKRU4psQTr09f9uB_7XKpr42M5b5Wwufg3VXIN0ZkxE1g92yAy81YfcxEVkE5XvGwVuQXKitqkc/s1600/2.-Sion-Daniel-Young-Christopher-in-The-Curious-Incident-of-the-Dog-in-the-Night-Time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilozj5iGrBBzMf_LsjN19le503EohW48XQ4PeAHuvn1JNTl4U66agNbASy1N4yeDvsfKRU4psQTr09f9uB_7XKpr42M5b5Wwufg3VXIN0ZkxE1g92yAy81YfcxEVkE5XvGwVuQXKitqkc/s400/2.-Sion-Daniel-Young-Christopher-in-The-Curious-Incident-of-the-Dog-in-the-Night-Time.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Christopher, llanc awtistig pymtheg oed (unwaith eto) yw prif
gymeriad y stori hudolus hon, a hanes ei frwydr meddyliol, corfforol a dyddiol
yw’r addasiad yma o nofel wych Mark Haddon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Er imi gael y cyfle i weld y cynhyrchiad
gwreiddiol nôl yn 2013, gyda Luke Treadway yn cipio sawl gwobr fel actor
gorau’r cynhyrchiad, roedd portread Siôn o’r bachgen bregus gystal os nad
gwell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Fyddwn i wir yn annog unrhyw un sy’n caru’r
THEATR i weld y cynhyrchiad. Dyma, imi, ydi enghraifft wych o gyd-weithio
theatrig yn ei holl ogoniant, o’r set i’r sain, y goleuo i’w goreograffi, y
cyfarwyddo a’r cyfanwaith, i gyd yn blethiad llwyddiannus o weledigaeth
theatrig ar ei orau.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Y prawf gorau o
hynny oedd ymateb fy nghyd-gydymaith ar yr ymweld yma â Theatr y Gielgud yn
Llundain. Er nad yn fynychydd cyson o’r theatr, roedd ei holl sylw a syfrdan ar
swyn y cynhyrchiad a diwedd yr act gyntaf yn ennyn yr ymateb gorau posib i
wychder theatr byw.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkMPCCJfesRGD-lslgehpM7rD3lCiS0aClUmb5g-flYxQhnKFWrgvzLOvVpAXnIOHoRuNJXxVsfjq0TeCfUbgVDVSU5rW6ii2HqZM-wSC_3r-ahCGmVzfIX1CTIJWdkzNrTRep8k41eE/s1600/7.The-Curious-Incident-of-the-Dog-in-the-Night-Time-Photo-Brinkhoff-Mo%25CC%2588genburg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkMPCCJfesRGD-lslgehpM7rD3lCiS0aClUmb5g-flYxQhnKFWrgvzLOvVpAXnIOHoRuNJXxVsfjq0TeCfUbgVDVSU5rW6ii2HqZM-wSC_3r-ahCGmVzfIX1CTIJWdkzNrTRep8k41eE/s400/7.The-Curious-Incident-of-the-Dog-in-the-Night-Time-Photo-Brinkhoff-Mo%25CC%2588genburg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Yn yr Oes anodd yma ble mae salwch meddwl i bob
oed ar gynnydd, mae hon yn stori a neges bwysig ynglŷn â’n gweledigaeth a’n
dealltwriaeth ni o’r byd a’n cyd-destun ynddo. Roedd y chwys a’r dagrau ar
gorff Siôn yn brawf amlwg o’i daith feddyliol a chorfforol, wrth gyflawni'r
holl weithredoedd a symudiadau ar y llwyfan o’n blaen.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Mae gyrfa Siôn, sy’n wreiddiol o Gaerdydd,
eisoes ar garlam, wedi portreadu’r prif gymeriad Albert yn nghynhyrchiad y
National Theatre o ‘War Horse’ ac hefyd wedi bod yn rhan o sawl cynhyrchiad
gyda National Theatre Wales.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6iZjqjwVw76t9y-8DOy4hvzV7C5UBDLbo6r45QuzX5R7LRNFUJDw-UUggTDoYSZ3EthyphenhyphenJiCP7XNxS2Qf2-uBg4AsiNZaz-aZ3DNh0ZRv4Ur-eMf-jYzkshUfDjae_1qCqB6NB2AdKQpQ/s1600/5.-Sion-Daniel-Young-Christopher-The-Curious-Incident-of-the-Dog-in-the-Night-Time-Photo-Brinkhoff-Mo%25CC%2588genburg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6iZjqjwVw76t9y-8DOy4hvzV7C5UBDLbo6r45QuzX5R7LRNFUJDw-UUggTDoYSZ3EthyphenhyphenJiCP7XNxS2Qf2-uBg4AsiNZaz-aZ3DNh0ZRv4Ur-eMf-jYzkshUfDjae_1qCqB6NB2AdKQpQ/s400/5.-Sion-Daniel-Young-Christopher-The-Curious-Incident-of-the-Dog-in-the-Night-Time-Photo-Brinkhoff-Mo%25CC%2588genburg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Braf hefyd oedd gweld mai Cymro o Bontypŵl, Matthew
Trevannion oedd un o’i gyd-actorion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mae
Matthew hefyd yn ddramodydd a cafodd ei ddrama gyntaf ‘Bruised’ ei lwyfannu gan
Clwyd Theatr Cymru<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ddwy flynedd yn ôl a
‘Leviathan’ gan Sherman Cymru eleni.<br />
<br />
Dau actor ifanc sydd â gyrfaoedd disglair iawn ar
lwyfannau’r wlad. <br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Cyn cloi, rhaid imi sôn am gynhyrchiad gwych yr
RSC o ddrama ‘fawr’ Arthur Miller, ‘Death of a Salesman’. Dwi di sôn dros y
blynyddoedd am bwysigrwydd ceisio gweld cynhyrchiad safonol a chadarn o’r
dramâu mawr yma, er mwyn i’r cynhyrchiad ar y llwyfan ddod â’r cymeriadau a’r
geiriau marw ar bapur yn fyw. Ar lwyfan ac nid mewn llyfrgell mae cartref POB
drama, ac os nad ydi gweledigaeth y cyfarwyddwr neu bortreadau’r actorion yn
tanio’r tân gwyllt, tydi gwir effaith y wledd o goelcerth ddim i’w weld.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">O gamau llusgedig a blinedig cyntaf Anthony Sher
ar y llwyfan, mae’r truan ‘Wille Loman’ yn fyw o flaen ein llygaid, felly hefyd
ei wraig druenus a hir-ddioddefus ‘Linda’ (Harriet Walter). Dau bortread pwerus
o’r rhieni sy’n cael eu mawrygu gan ffrwydradau ffantastig eu meibion ‘Biff’
(Alex Hassell) a ‘Happy’ (Sam Marks). </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Gyda llaw, os yn ffan o waith Miller, mae’n
rhaid ichi wylio’r wledd o gynhyrchiad o’i ddrama ‘All My Sons’ gyda David
Suchett a Zoë Wannamaker sydd ar gael dros y wê am £3.99 drwy ymweld â
<a href="http://www.digitaltheatre.com/">www.digitaltheatre.com</a> <br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ovq-y4SFJ0U/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ovq-y4SFJ0U?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Dau gyfanwaith o gynhyrchiad sy’n werth eu
gweld. Beth am benwythnos yn Llundain i brofi’r wefr?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mae ‘Curious Incident’ i’w weld yn Theatr
Gielgud a ‘Death of a Salesman’ yn y Noël Coward tan y 18fed o Orffennaf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Paul Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160793520087612489noreply@blogger.com0