Theatre

Takeaway

08/08/15

Kes Theatre Company, The Spaces On The Mile, Edinburgh

The streets of the East End are under threat from a dreadful new scourge… that most devious and all-encompassing of drugs… onions! And now the kids are hanging around outside a local takeaway and consuming them voraciously with little thought for the consequences. But what’s to be done about the problem? This sparky allegory by Jackie Kay, cleverly substitutes illegal drugs for something completely innocuous and manages to both expose the harm that drugs do and the over-reaction that society exhibits when dealing with them.

This is a school production, but it’s a damned good one – and at times the cramped performance space seems to literally strain at the seams to contain the sheer energy and enthusiasm of the ensemble cast. There were thirteen of them out there and as the piece incorporates quite a bit of physical theatre, they did well simply to avoid bumping repeatedly into each other; let alone moving with such evident control and precision. All the performances were exemplary and there were one or two potential stars of the future strutting their stuff in the midst of it.

If there’s a problem with Takeaway, it’s in the final section of the play, where Kay, having nailed her main subject with aplomb then segues into a riff on The Pied Piper of Hamelin – it’s almost as though she realised she needed to add an extra twenty minutes running time and looked around for a suitable fairy tale to tack on the end. Don’t get me wrong, it’s as nicely written as what’s gone before but doesn’t seem to sit comfortably with the rest of the script. But that’s hardly Kes Theatre’s fault. These gutsy young actors, from years 11 to 13 and based in Bath, have come to the Edinburgh Festival to compete with the professionals and have given a really good account of themselves. They should feel justifiably proud.

3. 6 stars

Philip Caveney

Foxfinder

07/08/15

Bedlam Theatre, Edinburgh

Dawn King’s Foxfinder is a gem of a play: it’s serious and playful with an awful lot to say. Set in the near future, the Britain we see here is a dreadful place, a dystopia where people are ruled by fear, and where foxes are the enemy. Sam and Judith Covey, whose farm is underperforming after a difficult year, are visited by Foxfinder William Bloor, sent to ensure there are no foxes on their land. If any are found, the consequences will be dire.

Master of None’s Fringe production is a bit of a gem too. The opening, where Sam (Hugo Nicolson) and Judith (Verity Mullan Wilkinson) are waiting anxiously for the Foxfinder to arrive, is beautifully done: the set, costume and lighting cleverly hinting at a bygone time, making explicit the connection with the witchfinders of old. This is reinforced by the arrival of Bloor, whose silhouetted, hatted figure looms menacingly at the door. When the lights go up and the actors move, the more contemporary setting is revealed – and it’s a relief… until we realise what’s going on.

William Bloor is the most interesting character: he is young, idealistic – and troubled. He has too much power and too little insight; he’s not mature enough to realise the truth of what he does. Indoctrinated since the age of five, he is a vulnerable and dangerous man – and Alex Stutt performs the role with charm and subtlety. He is utterly convincing as the conflicted Foxfinder, confused and disgusted by his sexual desires, and unswerving in his hatred of the evil, cunning fox.

This is a multi-faceted play, where the simple plot belies the myriad allegories. Foxes here are scapegoats for all society’s ills – they represent witches and devils, but the way they are treated aligns them with the persecuted too. This young theatre company clearly relishes the complexity, and their performances lay bare the toll such propaganda takes. Zoe Zak is particularly engaging as neighbour Sarah Box, who is forced to confront the limits of her own morality: will she, Stasi-like, inform on her neighbours to protect herself?

The direction is strong, although there is perhaps a little too much stage traffic at times, with a few unnecessary entrances and exits, but, all in all, this is definitely one to watch.

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Our Teacher’s A Troll

06/08/15

Roundabout@Summerhall, Edinburgh

Edinburgh has a fantastic new festival venue in Paines Plough, Summerhall. From the outside, it looks fairly unprepossessing and you think, ‘Oh, it’s a tent.’ But once you step inside, all preconceptions are swept aside. This is a fabulous theatre-in-the-round, complete with state-of-the-art programmable LED lights and a crystal clear sound system – but, even more remarkably, it can be dismantled piece-by-piece and packed into a single lorry, to be taken anywhere in the world. Roundabout are justifiably proud of their new baby and offered a pre-festival sneak peek at one of their upcoming plays – Our Teacher’s A Troll by Dennis Kelly.

Kelly must be one of the most eclectic writers in the business. It’s hard to link this chirpy slice of children’s theatre with DNA or Utopia or his TV sitcom, Pulling, but they are all the work of an accomplished and creative mind. OTAT tells the story of two ‘terrible’ twins at an inner-city school, who, having driven their head teacher to a nervous breakdown (she’s found eating sand in the sandpit), discover that her replacement is something that they could never have expected – a gigantic flesh-eating troll with a hard line on troublemakers. The children at the school are made to dig up the playground and work in the resulting goldmine, while the troll takes action against anyone who is unruly (pupils and teachers alike) by biting off their heads.

This is a two-hander: the twins (and everyone else in an extensive selection of characters) are portrayed by Sian Reese-Williams and Abdul Salis, who effortlessly switch from character to character, occasionally using a voice-transforming microphone to embody the unseen but terrifying troll. The duo’s command of the circular stage is total and there’s plenty of lively interaction with members of the audience. The play is suitable for children aged 7 and up, but there’s plenty here to entertain the grown-ups also, and only the grumpiest audience members will fail to be enthralled as the tale unfolds. So parents of young children, take note. This is too good a treat to miss and it’s on until the 23rd August, with the hardworking actors (who are also appearing in other productions at the same venue) taking only an occasional day off throughout the run.

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

Assembly Rooms Launch

05/08/15

Assembly Rooms, George Street, Edinburgh

The Assembly Rooms on George Street is one of the Fringe’s finest venues, its architecture creating an opulent backdrop for an eclectic range of shows.

This year’s offerings are many and varied; I’ll wager there’s something here for everyone. The selection we were offered last night barely scratched the surface, but still encompassed no less than seven genres of music – from comic ditties to classic crooning. There was theatre too, and comedy: it was a promising introduction to the latest festival.

There were too many acts to name them all, and we only saw a small sample of what they do (although we’ll definitely be back to find out more).

Standouts, though, included The Missing Hancocks, a recreation of four Hancock’s Half Hour radio scripts that have not been heard since the 1950s. Kevin McNally’s Hancock is delightfully accurate, with all the lugubrious charm of the man himself, and Robin Sebastian does a cracking Kenneth Williams. The scripts are funny in themselves, but they are performed here with vim and gusto and enough ‘new’ character to make them worthwhile in their own right (The Music Hall, 4.15pm – alternating daily between Show A and Show B).

Canadian Tom Stade’s stand-up was another highlight. He lives in Scotland now, and spent most of this short set ruminating on the cultural oddities his relocation has thrown up. His laconic style is utterly engaging, and this brief offering augers well for the full-length show (The Ballroom, 9.40pm – nightly).

We also enjoyed Christine Bovill’s Piaf, a delightful homage to a woman Bovill clearly adores. The songs are sung with warmth as well as precision, and Bovill is an engaging raconteur too, explaining both what the songs mean to her – and what they meant to Piaf herself. This is undoubtedly one to watch (The Spiegeltent, 7.20pm, various dates).

This was a strong start to this year’s Fringe at the Assembly Rooms – and, here at Bouquets and Brickbats, we are very excited about the next three weeks.

(We have decided not to include a star-rating for launch events, as it’s impossible to rate such a diverse collection of excerpts.)

Susan Singfield

We Are The Multitude/Gary: A Love Story

24:7 Theatre Festival, Manchester

26/07/15

Time was when the 24:7 theatre festival spanned a whole week and featured a host of new productions. Over the past 11 years it’s played to 40,000 people and has enjoyed the backing of the Arts Council and Manchester City Council. This year, largely because of difficulties with funding, the festival has been drastically scaled down to a single weekend, featuring just a handful of plays and talk is that this may even be the last time it happens: a real tragedy if that proves to be the case because it has always been a source of exciting, thought-provoking theatre and this year proves to be no exception. I hope it won’t end here, and it was heartening indeed to see that the John Thaw Theatre was absolutely packed for the two performances that B & B managed to attend.

We Are The Multitude, written by Laura Harper and directed by Liz Stevenson, is a tightly constructed two-hander which plunges a couple of University office employees into a long dark night of the soul (or more accurately a morning and afternoon of it) when they discover that they are the only workers who have come in to the office on the day when it has been occupied by ‘The Multitude,’ a group of militant activists who are threatening to blow the place to kingdom come, if their demands are not met.

Simon (Andy Blake) is a once-promising author who after failing to write the difficult second novel has had to buckle down to the realities of an unfulfilling desk job. Lisa (Amy Drake) occupies the desk next to him and is currently preparing herself for a meeting with HR, citing bullying from her boss, after she refused to allow Lisa to take time off to attend a funeral – that of her neighbour’s cat.

The chalk and cheese pairing of the two protagonists yields plenty of laughs – right from the start it’s clear by the state of their respective desks that here are two people who are destined to get right up each other’s noses – but as their situation becomes ever more perilous, they inevitably begin to open up to each other and reveal the tragic truths of their respective situations. It soon becomes clear that they have more in common than anyone might have supposed. Both performances are spot on, with Drake in particular mining her hapless character for maximum laughs. There’s also a last minute twist that few people will see coming.

Funny, but ultimately poignant, WATM makes for an entertaining and occasionally surprising hour of theatre.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Gary: A Love Story is writer James Harker’s debut play – but it doesn’t show. This is a confident, assured two-hander, directed with deft precision by Danielle McIlven – and it’s a joy to watch.

The protagonist is Andrew, brother of the eponymous Gary and the hour-long drama charts the ups and downs of their relationship, as they grow from children into young adults. Andrew is the high-achieving older brother, protector of his needier, ‘Mum-says-I’m-special’ sibling. Gary is naive, enthusiastic, excitable and vulnerable, a target for bullies and easy to manipulate. Andrew clearly loves him, but just as clearly finds him exasperating and a drain. They draw together in the face of family turmoil – their father’s leaving; the arrival of a new stepdad. And they fall apart when, on leaving school with good exam results, Andrew is employed on a management training scheme, while Gary, who has failed all of his exams, even the science he has so enjoyed – starts dealing drugs and idling his life away, alienating his family and bringing trouble to their home. Andrew loses patience and they fall out. It’s a heartbreaking tale; poor Gary never stands a chance. The odds are stacked against him: really, what is he supposed to do? He’s a sweet boy; it’s not his fault that there’s no place for him; it’s not his fault he’s not the clever one. Tragically, inevitably, he ends up in gaol – and Andrew is forced to re-evaluate his feelings for the baby brother with whom he has shared so much.

The set – two chairs, an old juke box and stacks of cardboard boxes – is a treasure trove of evidence, bearing witness to the past. When Andrew, in the grip of emotion, begins to destroy it, the whole edifice explodes – and it’s a devastating moment for the audience as well.

Both performances here are top-notch. Reuben Johnson, as Andrew, has the showier role, but Craig Morris, as Gary, is the perfect foil.

Truly, this is a gem of a play, with beautifully realised characters and dialogue. I have no doubt we will hear more from playwright James Harker.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

The Skriker

4/07/15

Royal Exchange Theatre/MIF15, Manchester

The Skriker is a screaming, hurtling explosion of a play, quite unlike anything I have seen staged at the Royal Exchange before.

I’ve never seen the Exchange like this before either; it’s been transformed to accommodate this play. From the moment we enter the beautiful old building, we know something’s different: there’s an avenue of trees casting a dappled green light, and the glass theatre-pod in the middle of the Great Hall is shrouded in black.

We’re in the first gallery; as we settle into our seats and peer down into the gloom, it takes us a while to notice that all 400 of the stage-level seats have been removed, making way for a series of rough wooden tables, laid out like the spokes of a broken wheel. It feels, somehow, like being inside a tree.

Although our seats give a us a clear overview of the performance space, the intention, clearly, is an immersive experience: there are chairs at most of the tables, and about sixty audience members thus become part of the set. They are, then, more than witnesses: they are complicit and involved. If they chose to, they could intervene…

I’ve long been a fan of Caryl Churchill’s work; she asks difficult questions without obvious answers, and seems to revel in the awkwardness of rejecting clear-cut rhetoric. Yes, she’s political, but she’s not interested in soundbites or tub-thumping. The world is more complex than that, and so are our reactions to it. This refusal to tread a familiar path is reflected in the theatrical form. Churchill’s plays do not conform to any accepted norms – and they’re not always easy to watch.

The Skriker, certainly, is a challenging piece. The eponymous role, played here with great relish and enormous talent by Maxine Peake, is a kind of ancient fairy, a damaged, polluted, angry spirit, raging at humans for destroying the earth. Josie and Lily, two troubled teenagers, become the focus of the Skriker’s fury, forced to confront the calamity that climate change has wrought.

The banquet scene, set down in Fairyland, is central to the play and it’s here that the themes are crystallised. Josie, propelled into this underworld by greed and curiosity, participates enthusiastically in the feast, even when an anguished woman reveals that the glistening platters are actually laden with parts of her body: ‘That’s my head!’ It makes no difference; the revellers continue to gorge, even as they witness her destruction, their dancing becoming ever wilder and more reckless. The woman implores Josie not to drink the wine, making clear that, if she does, she too will be destroyed. But no one heeds the warning. It’s not the subtlest of metaphors and – in a play this complicated – that’s no bad thing. Here, it seems, is a central premise we can use to inform our understanding of other, more opaque ideas; here, we have a clear allegory for mankind’s wanton destruction of the planet, continuing, as we do, to drive, fly, hunt rare animals, overfish the seas, cut down rain forests and frack our blighted earth

It’s an important play: frightening and angry and funny and weird. Maxine Peake is perfectly cast as the shape-shifting fairy; she inhabits each persona so completely, it’s a wonder to behold. It doesn’t matter, really, that she overshadows the younger, less experienced actors playing Josie and Lily (Laura Elsworthy and Juma Shorkah respectively), as this was always meant to be the Skriker’s play. The ensemble of wraiths and spirits embody freakish malevolence and anxiety, and the choir cements the savage beauty of the other-worldly air.

A full five stars for this one, then, but if you go to watch it, be prepared: this is not light-hearted entertainment. It’s hard work – but it’s worth it.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Kafka’s Monkey

17/06/15

Home, Manchester

Based on Kafka’s short story, A Report To An Academy, and adapted for the Young Vic by Colin Teevan, (though it follows the original text pretty much word-for-word) Kafka’s Monkey is a fascinating monologue by Kathryn Hunter. It tells the story of Red Peter, an ape, captured in Africa and taught by his human masters to walk, talk and behave as a ‘human,’ mostly by aping the very worst aspects of humanity. Over a taut 50 minutes, we follow Peter’s progress from helpless captive to celebrated music hall performer and are left to speculate about the question of identity. Peter ultimately emerges as a misfit, a creature neither ape nor human but somewhere in between, and consequently a tragic figure. The play is completely dominated by Hunter’s extraordinary performance. Make no mistake, this is a tour de force of the actor’s art. She shuffles onstage, her body stooped and twisted and brilliantly embodies her simian character, eerily conveying Peter’s eccentric moves and his stylised way of speaking.

Sadly, the production’s other aspects aren’t quite in the same league. Teevan’s script attempts a form of iambic pentameter for Peter’s ‘human’ utterings and free verse form for his ‘monkey’ self – but the story is short on anecdotal material. The presentation is after all supposed to be taking place in a scientific establishment, which may go some way to explain its curious sense of detachment, but a more intimate approach would surely have elicited more empathy with Peter’s plight. A central screen seems somewhat underused, displaying as it does just one image, that of a chimpanzee. It’s left blank for most of the running time and might perhaps have been used to indicate different scenes – the hold of a ship, perhaps or a music hall. There’s a sparse electronic score, which again seems perfunctory, particularly when set against Hunter’s bravura performance.

There are a couple of welcome touches of humour scattered throughout the proceedings as ‘Peter’ interacts with people in the front row, hugging them, offering them bananas, coaxing them to join him onstage. Hunter also performs some contortions that elicit gasps of amazement from the audience. She’s worth the price of admission on her own, but I can’t help feeling that more supportive staging would have lifted this production to another level entirely.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Funfair

2/6/15

Home, Manchester

We were (ironically) away from home for the launch of Home – Manchester’s brand-spanking new arts centre, which takes over from two legendary local institutions, The Cornerhouse and The Library Theatre. Home is housed in a great big serious-looking building at the end of First Street, replete with cinema screens, theatres, exhibition spaces, a cavernous bar and a restaurant. What’s not to like?

There’s certainly plenty to like about its inaugural theatre presentation, The Funfair. This is Simon Stephens’ astute adaptation of Odon Von Harvath’s late 20s play Kasimir and Karoline. Stephens must be the hardest working person in theatre right now and if Von Harvath’s play seems a wilfully obscure choice as the opening gambit for a brand new venue, its certainly a prescient one – the original play was set in austerity-stricken Munich just a few years before the rise of the Nazi party. It’s surely no coincidence that the story strikes a whole series of ironic chords with what’s happening in the UK right now. The action takes place in and around a seedy fairground and Ti Green’s design captures perfectly the tawdry splendour of such settings. Neon lights flicker, carousels whirl and you can almost smell the fried onions.

Cash (Ben Batt) is a former chauffeur, himself a victim of the stricken economy. Out of luck and now out of work, he worries that his already turbulent relationship with fiancé Caroline (Katie Moore) is doomed to failure by his lack of employment – and there are certainly plenty of temptations lying in wait for her when, after a row with Cash, she decides to visit the fair, with the professed intention of going on ‘all the rides’. She soon elicits the attentions of John Chase (Rhodri Meilir) a dorky but ambitious salesman with a liking for ice cream. When John’s rich boss, Billy Smoke (a superbly lascivious Ian Bartholomew) turns up accompanied by his equally venal companion, David Spear (Christopher Wright) their combined gaze falls upon Caroline… and the stage is set for a deliciously dark allegory about the human condition and its propensity for excess.

The Funfair is a dazzling box of delights, a real multi-media event that employs lights, shadows, live rock music, back and front projection, masks, movement and a central turntable that’s used to stunning visual effect, but none of this is ever allowed to overwhelm the splendid performances from the ensemble cast. Stephens’ canny script flips us back and forth like a well-oiled rollercoaster between the various intertwining stories and the events culminate in a bitter-sweet scene that will stay with you long after you’ve stumbled out of the building.

Home really couldn’t have asked for a better opening salvo than this. It’s on until the 13^th of June and it’s an unqualified delight. Miss it and weep.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Scotland Short Play Award 2015

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

28/05/15

The Traverse is a writers’ theatre, its commitment to new writing intrinsic to its existence. This makes it an exciting place to visit; one thing here is always certain: you won’t be watching a tired old revival or an over-exposed crowd-pleaser.

Last night’s showcase of the four finalists in the Scotland Short Play Award 2015 was a case in point: a genuinely compelling selection of pieces, all simply staged but powerfully performed, with all the wit, vigour and contention you could hope for from a group of emerging young playwrights.

First up was Morven by Emily Ashton. This was a disturbing howl of a play, with Nicola Roy superb as the anguished mother, who may or may not have murdered her child. Hounded by both press and social workers, at once devastated and furious, the eponymous Morven forced the audience to confront the idea that we can never really know the truth about some stories, no matter how clear cut they appear in the tabloids. The play’s structure was simple, and the director (Tony Cownie) utilised this to advantage, employing some nice techniques, e.g. the disembodied voice of the invisible questioner filling the theatre; the headline-like questions projected onto the wall; the Katie Mitchell-esque ‘live’ projections emphasising the minutiae of Morven’s movements and expression (not least, in fact, at the end, when the projection ceased to mirror Morven, showing how dissociated even she had become). A cracking start.

The second play was Romance by Ross Dunsmore, and this was our favourite of the night. A two-hander, performed with charm and gusto by Joanne Thompson and Cristian Ortega, it explored the complexities of a teenage relationship in the social media age, laying bare the insecurity and vulnerability that leads young girls to share explicit images of themselves. If that sounds bleak, it does the play a disservice, as this was laugh-out-loud funny, depicting the sweetest of boys remaining doggedly loyal to the girl he likes. It even had a hopeful, warm-hearted ending. In some ways, it made a mockery of the media hysteria around sexting. ‘Yeah ok,’ it seemed to say, ‘people do stupid stuff, and there can be ugly consequences, but – you know – this too will pass. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world.’ A poignant, endearing and humorous play. Lovely stuff.

Next was Cameron Forbes’ It Never Ends, another two-hander about a modern relationship, this time focused on the slightly older demographic of the undergraduate. This was perhaps the most controversial piece of the night, dealing as it did with two young people heading out to a club, both keen to let loose: get drunk, get high and get laid. Their intentions were clear and stated, and the first half of the play was full of hope and hedonism, dancing and fun. The following morning, however, waking up in a stranger’s bed, the young woman had no recollection of their sexual encounter, and crept away, bereft and violated. There was no redemption here, and no easy ‘answer’ for the audience. The young man was not a rapist (he was as inchoate as she) but she certainly felt raped. Neither of them found the joy they were seeking. It’s a sad and complex issue, and the tragedy was made clear here.

The final play of the night was Potterrow by Martin McCormick. This was the most ambitious piece by far, and perhaps the least suited to the fifteen-minute time-frame. Nevertheless, it was a fascinating monologue, charting a man’s breakdown: a new parent’s sleep deprivation leading to paranoia and obsession, and – eventually – to the murder of an old woman whose dog fouls The Meadows. We were never quite sure if he was a policeman or not, or if the uniform he wore was just another symptom of his ailing mind. The footprints laid out on sheets across the stage mapped out the man’s demise, and also emphasised how often he became derailed, his intentions thwarted along the way. The performance, by Gavin Jon Wright, was both nuanced and convincing. This playwright is certainly one to watch.

All in all, then, this was a fascinating night, and bodes well for the future of theatre. With these young playwrights at the helm, things look very promising indeed.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The King’s Speech

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

23/05/15

The King’s Theatre, Edinburgh, has a reputation for being beautiful. “If you like the Lyceum,” several friends have told us, “just wait until you see the King’s.” And, to be fair, the building is gorgeous: all perfectly preserved Art Deco woodwork, and a frankly overgenerous serving of boxes, with a staggering eighteen ornate (and empty) loges dominating the auditorium. So, yes, the theatre is lovely to look at.

Unfortunately, I didn’t love the play. The story was too familiar from the over-praised film (I enjoyed the film, I really did, but it felt more like a decent TV drama than the Oscar-winning heavyweight it was lauded as), and the subject too unsympathetic. It’s hard to empathise too much with such a vastly over-privileged man.

The performances were good: Jason Donovan made an appealingly irreverent Lionel; Claire Lams a wonderfully acerbic Queen. But the dialogue was plodding, and the direction lacked the lightness of touch that elevated the film. Set changes, for example, were more complex than necessary, interrupting the flow and slowing the pace. The simplicity of the wooden wall panels was negated by the constant shifting of superfluous props: the location was clear as soon as a door slid open; I didn’t need three desks, a bookshelf and a couple of armchairs to tell me where we were.

I liked the way the political machinations were writ large in this play, and how Lionel Logue’s refreshing lack of agenda was shown to contrast so heavily with the naked, ugly self-interest of the clergy, the government and the royal family itself. But, overall, this was not for me.

2.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Bouquets & Brickbats

Theatre – Film – Comedy – Food

Theatre

Takeaway

Foxfinder

Our Teacher’s A Troll

Assembly Rooms Launch

We Are The Multitude/Gary: A Love Story

The Skriker

Kafka’s Monkey

Funfair

Scotland Short Play Award 2015

The King’s Speech