Author: Bouquets & Brickbats

Gangsta Granny

Birmingham Stage Company presents Gangsta Granny by David Walliams. CAST Gilly Tompkins – Granny Ashley Cousins – Ben Laura Girling – Mum Ben Martin – Dad Umar Malik – Raj Alison Fitzjohn – Matron Richard James – Doctor Louise Bailey – Queen & Female Undestudy Aaron Thiara – Male Understudy CREATIVE TEAM Adapter and Director – Neal Foster Designer – Jackie Trousdale Lighting Designer – Jason Taylor Composer – Jak Poore Sound Designer – Nick Sagar Choreographers – Paul Chantry & Rae Piper of Chantry Dance Company Production Manager – Adrian Littlejohns

05/10/16

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

The Birmingham Stage Company’s children’s shows are well-known throughout the UK (as well as further afield), and this touring adaptation of David Walliams’ best-seller lets us see why they are so popular. This is theatre with its target audience firmly in its sights, every detail carefully judged to ensure it hits its mark.

It tells the tale of Ben (Ashley Cousins), whose ballroom-obsessed parents (played tonight by Benedict Martin and understudy Louise Bailey) force him to spend every Friday night with his boring Granny (Gilly Tompkins). But, as Ben soon discovers, there’s more to Granny than cabbage soup: her secret alter-ego is an infamous jewel thief – and anything but dull. It’s a charming story with a simple message: don’t underestimate people just because they’re old. “I wasn’t born a little old lady,” as Granny says to Ben.

The production is big and bold, the supporting characters a series of Roald Dahl-style grotesques. The children in the audience love these comic exaggerations: Mr Parker, the nosy neighbour (Benedict Martin again), seems a particular favourite, eliciting squeals of delighted laughter with his heightened mannerisms.

There are some stand-out moments and ideas. The mobility scooter is used to good comic effect, and the unflinching approach to mortality is very refreshing in a production of this ilk. The characters are all well-drawn and clearly delineated throughout. I love the way that sound effects are employed, not just in the inevitable (and very funny) fart jokes, but also to facilitate our acceptance that there is, for example, a car on stage. It’s a neat, efficient means of conveying ideas, and the performers physicalise it well.

In fact, if there’s a criticism, it’s that there could be more of this. The set seems overly complex, with too many distracting scene changes that often seem unnecessary. A simpler, more pared-down approach would mean less stage traffic and less ‘busy-ness’ (the constant setting up/taking down of the kitchen table and chairs seems particularly pointless), and would make the story’s through-line clearer and more direct.

All in all, though, this is a lot of fun, and a huge success with its intended audience. The children near us were shiny-eyed and excited as they left the theatre, and that’s surely what this is all about.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Suppliant Women

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Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh

05/10/16

It’s a rare thing indeed when you go into a theatre and are treated to something unique – but that is the word that kept coming to me, as I sat entranced in the stalls of The Lyceum, watching David Greig’s production of The Suppliant Women. Written by Aeschylus two thousand, five hundred years ago, this wasn’t the usual contemporary adaptation of classic Greek theatre, but an attempt (costumes aside) to present it pretty much as it must have been performed in its original incarnation, complete with libations of wine and milk, choral odes and synchronised movement.

Add to this the fact that the cast of more than fifty performers is composed mostly of amateurs and you might have some notion of what an ambitious production this is, but you certainly won’t be prepared for the skill and grace with which the performers deliver their roles. Here’s a chorus, speaking as one, where you can hear every single word – a chorus that moves around the crowded stage with uncanny precision. They have only been rehearsing this since early September, yet their dedication shows at every turn.

The story may be thousands of years old and yet it’s remarkably prescient for our troubled times. The women of the title have fled their native Egypt where they are being forced to marry their cousins and, accompanied by their father, Danaaus (Omar Ebrahim), they arrive in Argos, seeking asylum. They take shelter in the temple of Zeus where they are met by The King (Oscar Batterham) who feels conflicted about their presence – to turn them away will offend Zeus, but the King is also aware that the local populace may take against these women, who are after all, migrants – and what if their presence here should cause a war between Argos and Egypt?

Skilfully directed by Ramin Grey, with musical accompaniment of percussion and Aulos (a traditional double-reeded instrument), this is a feast for the senses. The performance area is a bare breeze block paved space, that utilises the whole depth of the Lyceum’s curtainless stage, but there’s wonderfully atmospheric lighting (a scene set in near darkness where every woman carries a lantern is particularly effective) and plaudits must go to chorus leader, Gemma May, who manages to deliver all of her potentially tongue-twisting lines with absolute authority. If the idea of watching traditional Greek drama leaves you cold, don’t be misled – this is a riveting slice of theatre that deserves a wide audience.

Go, enjoy. There may not be a show like this one for another two thousand, five hundred years.

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Amanda Knox

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03/10/16

Amanda Knox is a household name, known around the world as a convicted murderer, a promiscuous young woman who killed her flatmate, Meredith Kercher, as part of a twisted sex game. No matter that her conviction has been overturned; no matter that the stories about her are founded on nothing more than prejudice and conjecture: her infamy precedes her, and those who’ve swallowed the tabloid tales remain convinced of her guilt.

This Netflix documentary doesn’t ask whether she’s guilty; her innocence is assumed as a given, and – once we hear the self-satisfied testimonies of Giuliano Mignini, the chief prosecutor, and Nick Pisa, a tabloid journalist – it’s easy to see why. By his own admission, Mignini finds Knox’s behaviour inappropriate: he doesn’t like the fact that she is seen kissing her boyfriend just hours after learning of her flatmate’s death, and paints her as the ‘whore’ to Kercher’s ‘Madonna'(“Maybe,” he hypothesises, “Meredith didn’t like coming home to find men in in her house…”). There’s literally no evidence to support Knox’s conviction, except for a soon-retracted confession, extracted after several gruelling hours of being interviewed/harangued and slapped around the head. Mignini is just a misogynist, reading a young woman’s sexuality as a sign of evil.

Nick Pisa doesn’t fare any better: he relishes the salacious details Mignini feeds to the press, laughing and crowing at the scoop, openly revelling in the fact that there’s blood, murder, young women, sex. Juxtaposed with footage of the crime scene, and interviews with Kercher’s family, the sheer heartlessness of this is hard to watch. And the tabloid’s gleeful exploitation of poor Kercher’s death means that Knox’s life is also destroyed: a young woman, wrongly accused of a dreadful crime, her diary exposed to the world, her (frankly unremarkable) sex life made public and used to shame her… for what?

Her boyfriend, Raffaele Sollecito, was always portrayed as her dupe, a nice young man being manipulated by a Jezebel. What emerges here is a different view: he is indeed a nice young man – and as innocent as his girlfriend of this revolting crime.

Okay, so this isn’t as detailed an exposé as Serial or Making a Murderer – it would be interesting to learn more about how the judicial system got it so wrong – but it’s a compelling documentary nonetheless, and at least gives Knox an opportunity to set her critics straight.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Deepwater Horizon

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03/10/16

The name is synonymous with one of the worst industrial accidents of all time. In April 2010, the titular drilling rig suffered a catastrophic explosion that spilled millions of tonnes of crude oil into the Gulf of Mexico, causing untold damage to the eco-system. The environmental impact was unprecedented – but Peter Berg’s film is much more concerned with the human story behind the disaster. One hundred and twenty six crew members worked aboard the Deepwater Horizon and, sadly, not all of them lived to tell the story.

The events are seen largely from the POV of engineer Mike Williams (Mark Wahlberg). We first join him at his home, shortly before he leaves for an eventful three-week shift on the drilling platform and we catch his interplay with his wife, Felicia (Kate Hudson) and his young daughter, Sydney (Stella Allen). Barely ten minutes in, we care about him. And then we’re aboard the rig, watching as he goes about his daily routine, exchanging pleasantries with the other crew members and noting the concerns of safety officer, Jimmy Harrell (Kurt Russell), who feels that safety checks are being ignored because the drilling is forty three days behind schedule, something that’s encouraged by BP executive, Vidrine (John Malkovich, playing a character almost as oily as the stuff the crew are drilling for). Of course, history tells us that something went badly wrong and the suspense racks steadily up to the moment when it actually does.

From here on, we’re in disaster movie territory, as all hell breaks loose. It’s a horribly immersive experience and there’s barely time to draw breath as the crew run desperately around the rig, trying to stay alive. Strangely, it’s only after the blitzkrieg of special effects is over that the emotions are hit – there’s a key scene here that had me filling up and it will be a stony individual indeed, who doesn’t feel similarly compelled.

Ultimately, Deepwater Horizon is a tale of heroism – both Williams and Harrell went far beyond what might have been expected of people in such circumstances. It also makes for a thrilling cinematic experience. As the credits roll, we see the real people behind the story, who – surprise, surprise – are nothing like as photogenic as the actors who portray them, but it drives home the fact that this is a true story, where once again corporate greed puts profits above human lives.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

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01/10/16

Based on the popular novel by Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children is a Tim Burton film, that doesn’t feature his usual cohort of friends/family and is largely set in North Wales. Jake (Asa Butterfield) is unusually close to his secretive Grandfather, Abe (a scenery-chewing Terence Stamp) who often regales him with stories about a children’s home he spent time in during the Second World War.

When Abe is (rather horrifically) murdered by an odd looking monster (one that appears to have stepped out of a Guillermo Del Toro film), Jake accompanies his hapless father, Franklin (Chris O Dowd) to the remote Welsh island where the home was located and which is now no more than a burned out ruin. Jake has a vague notion of finding some answers about his Grandpa’s death, but almost before you can say ‘time travel’ Jake has somehow found his way back to the 1940s, where the home functions in a weird time-loop, presided over by the titular Miss Peregrine (a remarkable turn from Eva Green) who amongst her many talents has the ability to transform herself into a bird of prey. The children at the home all have odd powers of their own which range from invisibility to internal bee-keeping and the possession of a second mouth at the back of the neck. (Always handy). But the home is under threat from the evil creatures that control the monsters. They are led by Barron (Samuel L Jackson) a vile looking shape-shifter with a predilection for eating human eyeballs…

Like most Burton movies, this is often very nice to look at (he started off as an illustrator and that always shows) but there’s something curiously unengaging about the film, which is packed full of over-complicated incident, yet rarely manages to exert any kind of grip on the attention. It seems to go on for an inordinately long time, before it finally reaches a climax in an exotic location (Blackpool) where screenwriter Jane Goldman has to find something useful for every one of those peculiar kids to do. Despite all the monsters rampaging across the screen, there’s no real sense of threat here and it isn’t very enlightened to have the one black actor in the film cast as a child-murdering villain.

There are admittedly a few nice moments dotted about (a spirited tribute to the ‘fighting skeletons’ sequence from Ray Harryhausen’s Jason and the Argonauts being one of them) but ultimately this isn’t Burton’s finest moment. For a film that’s so packed with fantasy elements, MPHFPC is long on exposition and woefully short of magic.

2.9 stars

Philip Caveney

Grassmarket Paella Stall

Grassmarket, Edinburgh

01/10/16

Question: Where can you eat delicious food in Edinburgh city centre for less than a fiver?

Answer: The Grassmarket, every Saturday lunchtime.

To be fair, there’s more than just paella on offer here – there are stalls serving South East Asian cuisine, burgers, pakoras, pizzas, you name it – but paella is what we’re in the mood for this sunny October lunchtime and I’ve been promising myself for ages that we are going to check out this stall, which doesn’t even appear to have a name. A simple sign announces ‘Lovely paella.’ When we arrive, there are two gigantic round pans of the stuff on the go, bubbling invitingly and giving off an aroma that sets my stomach a gurgling, but we’ve mistimed our visit. The chef tells us that the current pan still needs another ten or fifteen minutes before it’s perfect and he isn’t going to serve it until its just right.

Luckily, we have vegetable shopping to do, so we troop off to another stall and sort that out, before heading back, our appetites that bit keener. An eager queue is already forming but the chef remembers us, and waves us to the front. He duly heaps out two piping hot portions into foil trays. This isn’t exactly fancy dining, mind you. We get a plastic fork and a paper serviette apiece and that’s our lot – but it’s a lovely day, so we take a seat on the nearby gibbet (seriously) and dig in.

This is a very decent paella, the rice perfectly judged so it still has a tiny amount of ‘bite’ left in it. There are chunks of succulent chicken, flageolet beans, red peppers, green beans and that delicious combination of spices and chopped garlic that makes every mouthful a thing of wonder. One generously heaped portion of paella costs four pounds, fifty, which is excellent value for money. Transfer this to a china bowl, throw in some cutlery, three flunkies and a wine list and you’d be more than happy to pay £15 for something like this, any day of the week.

When we wander back in that direction, fifteen minutes later, I can’t help but notice that the first big pan has been consumed and people are already looking hopefully at its successor. If you’re in Edinburgh city on a Saturday lunchtime and you fancy a bit of Spanish, you could do a lot worse than this.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Hell or High Water

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30/09/16

Brothers, Toby and Tanner Howard (Chris Pine and Ben Foster) are industriously robbing a series of small banks in West Texas and going to great lengths to conceal all evidence of their crimes. They aren’t doing it for the usual reasons, though, but in a desperate attempt to pay off a crippling loan on their late mother’s ranch, in order to secure the future of Toby’s two sons from his failed marriage. When the robberies come to the attention of aging Texas Ranger, Marcus Hamilton, (Jeff Bridges), he resolves to solve one last case before he retires…

Hell Or High Water is a searing look at the underbelly of America, where ordinary people struggle to make ends meet and where the real criminals (at least in the view of writer Taylor Sheridan) are the bankers, who make a rich living from foreclosing on those who can no longer afford to pay for their homes. It’s a side of the USA we rarely glimpse in movie theatres and for that at least, it deserves our attention. There’s plenty here to enjoy. Bridges excels as the crusty-as-last-month’s-tortillas lawman, forever bickering with his Native American partner, Alberto (Gil Parker), while lamenting a way of life that seems as doomed as the ranchers we glimpse herding their cattle away from a raging brushfire. And can we really take wholeheartedly against the Tanner brothers, when they are in such a desperate plight?

This is an unapologetically elegiac story, as stripped and spare as the desert landscapes in which the events take place – but as with Sheridan’s previous script, Sicario, it’s almost exclusively a man’s world and you’ll have to look very hard indeed to spot a properly developed female character. Forget the Bechdel test – all we are offered here is a parade of hookers, harpies and harridans – a shame, because just like Sicario, this is an otherwise assured production, strong on action and the hard bitten verbal interplay between its main characters.

The ending hints at unfinished business but wisely leaves us wanting closure. It’s a lean, taut action movie but the inclusion of some decent female characters would have lent it more depth, and assured it a higher score from yours truly. It’s good, but ultimately a bit of a missed opportunity.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

The Magnificent Seven

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26/09/16

This was always going to be an important film for me. In 1960, when I was nine year’s old, my father took me to see John Sturges’ original version of The Magnificent Seven. It’s one of the first movies I can remember seeing on the big screen. I recall being thrilled by it and it was certainly instrumental in kindling the flames of what would become a lifelong obsession with all things celluloid. But of course, its storyline (itself inspired by Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai) wouldn’t really fly in this day and age. It tells the story of seven heroic cowboys who come to the aid of a village full of ‘lowly’ Mexican peasants who are being terrorised year after year by a gang of marauding bandits. If somebody was going to remake this particular classic, they would have to find a new approach – and to director Antoine Fuqua’s credit, he’s managed to do that.

If this version of the tale resembles another classic Western, it’s actually High Noon, where a bunch of townsfolk fail to come together to challenge a force of evil. Here, the denizens of Rose Creek are threatened not by bandits but by greedy industrialist Bartholomew Bogue (Peter Sarsgaard, doing the latest in a long line of creepy, evil stinkers). Bogue wants the land on which the town is built so he can mine it for gold and has offered each family a pittance in exchange for what they own. Anyone who defies him is summarily executed and this includes the husband of Emma Cullen (Hayley Bennett), who, looking for revenge, sets out to recruit some help and chances upon law officer, Chisolm (Denzel Washington) as he goes about his deadly duty. He listens to her tale of woe and finally gets interested when she mentions Bogue. It’s clear from the start that there is some unfinished business between the two men. Chisolm promptly recruits a band of misfit heroes to help him rescue the town… they comprise an ex-confederate sniper (Ethan Hawke), a roguish gambler (Chris Pratt) a Mexican gunslinger (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo) a Chinese knife fighter (Byung Hun-Lee), a native American bowman (Martin Sensmeier) and a shambling mountain man (a barely recognisable Vincent Donofrio).

From there on, it’s pretty much a series of spectacular shootouts, set amidst stunning widescreen locations. (There’s an irony here in that the seven set out to protect Rose Creek and by the film’s conclusion, there’s not much of it left standing, but we’ll let that one go). Critics have complained that the film isn’t realistic (no, really?) but I think they’re missing the point somewhat. As a rip-roaring entertainment, The Magnificent Seven mostly succeeds in its aims and if it doesn’t quite match up to its famous progenitor, well, that was a shootout it was frankly never going to win, because what passed for valour in 1960 is going to look pretty reprehensible in 2016.

My favourite bit of dialogue in this version? Emma Cullen proudly telling the other townspeople that she’s quite clearly the only one with enough balls to take on the bad guys. Give this movie a fighting chance – it’s at least earned the right to that.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Audrie & Daisy

25/09/16

Audrie & Daisy is a Netflix documentary, and it’s a timely and important exposé of the sexual exploitation of school girls by their peers. As an ex-teacher, one of my first thoughts on watching it is: this needs to be shown in schools. How heartening, then, to discover that it is indeed being used to educate, and that there are even lesson plans for teachers to download (www.audrieanddaisy.com). Tragically, it’s too late for Audrie, who committed suicide, but telling their stories – actually being heard – must be cathartic for Daisy, Delaney, Paige and the other girls who feature here. But the film’s main importance lies, I think, in protecting other potential victims.

At its core are two sexual assaults: Audrie (15) was abused and photographed while unconscious at a party, and Daisy was raped by her older brother’s friend, while incapacitated by alcohol. When everyone at school saw the pictures of her, Audrie couldn’t cope and hanged herself. Daisy, thankfully, has survived her ordeal, but the toll it’s taken is clear to see – on her and the rest of her family.

I don’t think it’s an over-reaction to say everyone should see this. We all need to hear these stories and acknowledge the reality of sexual assault. We all need to be reminded about consent and culpability. It’s easier to sweep such accusations under the carpet, easier to go along with, ‘Well, they were all just drunk, things got a bit out of hand.’ But that’s not the truth, and it’s not good enough.

Because it isn’t just their assailants who have hurt these girls, it is the ill-equipped system and the wider community too. From the high school gossips to the social media trolls, from the mayor who hates negative stories to the misogynist sheriff, a lot of people bear responsibility for victim-blaming, and worsening the girls’ ordeals. The bravery of these young women, their determination to tell their stories, and their selflessness in making themselves vulnerable again: these are things to admire indeed.

We hear Daisy’s story in her own words; she’s an articulate, intelligent young woman, and it’s heartbreaking to hear what she’s endured. Audrie’s tale is filtered through her mother, her best friend and – compellingly – the hesitant testimonies of her assailants, JohnB and JohnR, who have been animated to protect their identities. “I knew it wasn’t right,” says JohnR, “I’ve never felt good about it.” How much better for everyone it would have been if he’d been equipped to recognise sexual assault for what it is, if he’d had it drummed into him that an unconscious person can’t consent. Because JohnR is probably a decent guy; he’s the only one here who expresses remorse. “The boys have put it behind them and moved on,” says Sheriff Darren White, an odious self-righteous man, who thinks he’s got things sorted out. “It’s just the girls who won’t do that.” Well, it’s harder for the victims, Sheriff, especially when the whole town seems to have turned against them, and the justice system has let them down.

And that’s why this film needs to be seen. Because we need to stop a new generation from growing up to think like Darren White. So watch this documentary. It tells its stories well, with a clear eye and a dispassionate tone. And, if you’ve got kids, show it to them too.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Cameo Cinema Beer & Food Event

Stitched Panorama

25/09/16

We’ve all heard of food and wine tastings, of course, but the good people at the Cameo Cinema clearly feel that beer really should be afforded the same privilege as its close cousin – and why not? Like many nations around the world, here in the UK, we consume a lot more amber than we do red or white. Beer often gets bad press, but did you know that it is fat free and has considerably fewer calories than wine? And that it has a lot less sugar than you might think? Hence this intimate meeting for forty lucky members of the Cameo Cinema in their delightful cafe bar (already our favourite drinking place in Edinburgh), where four vegetarian food courses are served, each matched with an appropriate beer.

First up, we’re offered a taste of San Miguel, matched with a tasty slice of Spanakopita (spinach pie), a filo pastry parcel filled with feta cheese, spinach and chopped onions. The twosome make a perfect match, the crisp, zesty lager cutting through the tangy taste of the filling. San Miguel is, of course, always perceived as the ultimate Spanish product – so it might surprise you to discover that it was first brewed (to a Spanish recipe) in the Philippines. These days, of course, it’s brewed in an even more exotic location: Northampton.

Next up we are served with a shot of London Pale Ale (I fondly remember this stuff being my dad’s drink of choice before lager was popularised in the 1960s). This is accompanied by a delightfully flaky vegan samosa filled with sweet and spicy mediterranean vegetables. Once again, the two items are an inspired match, the yeasty ale contrasting nicely with the samosa. Pale ale is also, we are told, an excellent partner for burgers and for Mexican food. You’ll hear no argument from me on that score.

The third nibble is a bowl of vegetable chilli, which has a rich, smoky flavour and a powerful kick to boot. This is paired with a wheat beer called Blue Moon, a malted America beer brewed Belgian-style. Here, the strong flavour of the cloudy beer is exactly what’s needed to cut through the strength of those chipotle chillies. Our hosts ask us if we think it’s a good combination and we answer in the affirmative.

I have a small twinge of anxiety as the fourth and final course is served. Out comes a glass of Black Ball stout, a Williams’ Brothers beer (a popular draught option at the Cameo), and this has been paired with a chocolate brownie. Now, I would never drink a stout on its own; I always find the flavour of roasted malt a bit too much, but I have to admit that, when taken in conjunction with a gooey sticky chunk of brownie, something rather magical happens – the two elements combine to provide a mouthful of what can only be described as sheer heaven. This turns out, against all the odds, to be my favourite pairing of the session.

Clearly the Cameo staff know what they’re doing – this event has been expertly put together. Those who would like to explore the subject a bit more should get themselves down to the Cameo bar with all speed – those who would prefer to learn more at a distance may care to investigate beerforthat.com – where all things beer and food-related are examined in more detail.

4 stars

Philip Caveney