Theatre

The Ghost Train

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Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester

19/05/15

The Royal Exchange are billing The Ghost Train as a comedy thriller, and there are certainly elements of both within Dad’s Army favourite Arnold Ridley’s 1920s play. It’s a lively production, performed with zeal by the ever-peppy Told By an Idiot, and there’s plenty to commend.

The premise is simple: six passengers are stranded at an isolated railway station, purportedly haunted by a ghost train. The play follows the development of their relationships, and unravels the mystery of the phantom. It’s hardly challenging stuff, but then, it isn’t meant to be, or at least not in this incarnation. Here, it’s clearly supposed to be fun – a riotous, silly, galumphing escapade – and it certainly had the audience laughing throughout.

There were a lot of clever moments: I love a bit of overt theatricality, so I was tickled by the narration-and-sound-effects idea at the start of the play (although I did feel it went on too long), and impressed by some of the set pieces, such as the initial (interrupted) train journey, and the prolonged parrot-chase. The cast revelled in the performance, and their enthusiasm was – at times – infectious.

However, despite (or because of) all the playfulness and witty ideas, the play just didn’t hang together. It was uneven and incoherent at times, with techniques shoehorned in as if it were an A level piece (where students need to demonstrate everything they know, all at once, even if it doesn’t really fit).

And, while some ideas were stretched to their limits – the ludicrous woman-in-a-parrot-suit, for example – other, more promising notions just weren’t taken far enough (the clowning was half-hearted; the drag act criminally understated), which was a real shame.

In all honesty, this play just didn’t work for me or my companions, but this certainly wasn’t a universal view. The house was raucous with laughter, and the applause was enthusiastic. Why not see it and decide for yourself? You certainly won’t be bored.

2.4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Venetian Twins

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02/05/15

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Carlo Goldoni is, of course, the playwright whose earlier work, A Servant of Two Masters was so fruitfully adapted by the National Theatre to create One Man, Two Guvnors. The Venetian Twins is cut from the same bolt of gaudy cloth (indeed, can it really be a coincidence that lead actor Grant O Rourke is a dead ringer for James Corden?) At any rate, it matters not. This is a farce majeure, beautifully played, timed to precision and rib ticklingly funny from start to finish.

The action takes place in Verona. Rich and somewhat dim country boy, Zanetto (O Rourke) comes in search of a bride, specifically the nice but equally dim Columbina (Angela Darcy) whose gold-digging father, The Provost senses an opportunity to refill the family’s depleted coffers. But Zanetto has an identical twin brother, Tonino (also played by O Rourke) from whom he was separated as a child. When Tonino flees his native Venice for Verona along with his sweetheart, prototype feminist Beatrice (Jessica Hardwick), the scene is set for a bewildering series of ‘mistaken identity’ disasters. It’s a cliche to say that much hilarity ensues but in this case, that’s exactly right.

In the wrong hands, farce can be toe-curling, but there’s not a foot put wrong here (unless you count the hilariously drunken old landlady who falls repeatedly through an open trapdoor.) This owes much to Commedia Dell Arte, but this is no ‘off-the-peg plot. Much of the wittily updated script by Tony Cownie is delivered in broad Scots accents, which work brilliantly, and there’s a wonderfully foppish performance by John Kielty as the effete (and inevitably English-accented) Florindo. There’s some wonderfully fruity innuendo, a fistful of malapropisms from Columbina and a stomach-churning scene involving a blocked toilet that modesty forbids me to describe in detail. Meanwhile, O Rourke slips effortlessly between the two roles simply by doing up the top button on his jacket and adopting a different expression. The two acts galloped by while the audience, myself included, were convulsed with laughter from start to finish. If laughter is something you relish, then you really should see this before it moves on. It’s a Venetian blinder.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Rolling Stone

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24/04/15

Royal Exchange, Manchester

Receiving its World Premiere at the Exchange, The Rolling Stone by Chris Urch has a short run here before transferring to the West Yorkshire Playhouse. It’s a story torn straight from the headlines. In the opening scene, two young men recline beside a lake on their first date – they chat, flirt and eventually kiss. Nothing at all out of the ordinary – except this is Uganda where homosexuality is expressly forbidden and transgressors face life imprisonment and ostracisation. Dembe (Sule Rimi) has fallen in love with young doctor, Sam (Robert Gilbert) who has an Irish father and a Ugandan mother. They both know that their relationship must be kept under wraps – particularly since Dembe’s older brother, Joe has recently been ordained as a church minister for their small community. But the local newspaper, ‘The Rolling Stone’ is always on the lookout for those people it likes to tag as ‘deviants’… and there’s a terrible price to pay if your name appears on their list…

There’s a great play to be written about this subject, but sadly, The Rolling Stone isn’t quite it. Despite excellent acting from the six-strong cast and some rousing acapella singing, the play’s characters are rarely allowed to rise above the two-dimensional; it’s hard to believe that they have another life outside of the story and everything we learn about them, seems designed merely to power the narrative. There are, however, some good scenes along the way. The playful opening hints at depths hidden beneath the surface, even if it never actually uncovers them; Joe’s vitriolic sermon condemning homosexuality makes for uncomfortable viewing and the play ends on a moment of high tension, where we realise the full implications of Dembe’s situation – but I wanted to know so much more about his family relationships and that didn’t really come across.

The Rolling Stone tells an important story, one that deserves to be heard by the widest possible audience and I’m glad that it has been written, (glad too that The Exchange deemed it worthy of production) but this must count only as a partial success. It continues here until the 1st of May.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Shooting With Light

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22/03/15

Lowry Theatre, Salford

At the Edinburgh Fringe 2013, one of our happiest discoveries was the physical theatre group, Idle Motion. We saw two productions – Borges and I (based around the life of writer and librarian, Jorge Borges) and That Is All You Need To Know (inspired by the story of Bletchley Park and the breaking of the Enigma Code.) Both pieces were extraordinary and we were disappointed to discover that they weren’t back at the Fringe in 2014.

Now here’s a touring production of their latest offering, Shooting With Light, which we caught at the beginning of it’s short tour. It’s the story of famous war photographer, Robert Capa (or to give him his real name, Andre Friedman) and his partner, Gerda Taro, who shared his passion for such dangerous work and in many cases, actually took some of the photographs with which he was credited. What I love about this group is their simplicity. A basic set of centrally placed translucent white boxes becomes a whole variety of locations – doors, windows, a cinema screen (presciently showing Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night), wardrobes, phone booths, you name it. As always with Idle Motion, this is an ensemble piece with just five performers taking on a multiplicity of roles. In a mixture of acting and movement they lead us into the dark heart of the Spanish Civil War and, intriguingly, place  a mystery at the centre of the story – the search for a box of lost negatives that includes the picture that Capa considered the most important of all.

If I have a minor criticism with the piece, it’s simply that, so early in the tour, the movement isn’t quite as slickly choreographed as it will be as it settles in. There were a couple of clumsy missteps tonight and a slightly shonky moment where a rug was flung out of a window for Capa and Tarot to ‘lie’ on – the resulting effect, beneath a starry sky, was magical, mind you, but the transition, rather less so. I’m quibbling here. This is a splendid performance piece, engaging, atmospheric and ultimately rather emotional – both Capa and Taro paid the ultimate price for their undoubted courage and I’m not embarrassed to say that at one point I was watching through tear-filled eyes.

Shooting With Light continues at the Lowry until the 24th of April and then heads out to a series of locations around the UK until the 9th of May. (You’ll find full details on the group’s website.) If you love physical theatre and want to see it brilliantly performed, then I urge you to catch this show. It really is worth the effort.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Cuckooed

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18/04/15

Cuckooed was one of the hot tickets at last year’s Fringe – so hot, in fact, that we failed to procure tickets for it. So it was great to see it repeated at the Traverse Theatre and to note, that once again, it was absolutely sold out. Luckily we booked early.

Tonight’s show is divided into two halves. Before the titular ‘comedy of betrayal,’ we are treated to forty minutes of chat by writer and star Mark Thomas, focusing mostly on the ‘105 Acts of Minor Dissent’ that he recently set himself. It’s hard to describe Thomas’s act. He’s not exactly a standup, in the sense that there are no real jokes or punchlines here – and yet he has people roaring with laughter, pretty much from the get go. He’s actually an activist, a ‘domestic terrorist’ as the police like to label him, a man who entered the Guinness Book of records for holding 20 protests in 24 hours. Thomas has devoted his life to confronting senseless authority and he manages to make me feel ashamed for not doing more. He’s also a man who doesn’t hold back when talking about those who he feels fall short of being decent human beings. A recent competition he held, to come up with a definition of the word ‘Farage,’ resulted in the following: Farage: the puddle of smelly liquid at the bottom of a rubbish bin. 

Cuckooed is a more complex animal, a blend of theatre, witness-recollections, video and reconstruction. Instead of a programme, we get a paperback copy of the script, which is always a bonus. It tells the story of when Mark was a member of the Campaign Against the Arms Trade and carried out protests alongside his dearest friend, referred to here only as ‘Martin.’ When it becomes apparent that members of the group are being spied on by the arms company, BAE Systems, it soon transpires that there has to be a mole working within CAAT, and, after much digging, suspicion falls upon Martin. Thomas is at first incensed. How could just a hardworking, devoted activist be thought capable of performing such a horrible deception? But, as he begins to probe the evidence himself, a terrible truth is uncovered…

Thomas is a mesmerising performer. This is essentially a monologue (with interjections from witnesses recorded on video screens, cleverly contained within the sliding drawers of filing cabinets), but he carries the show expertly, using all the techniques of a gifted actor. A key scene where his emotion builds to the point where his eyes fill with tears of regret is incredibly moving, and, I believe, impossible to fake. It raises some incredibly cogent questions about the right to privacy and touches on other deceptions – notably the case of undercover policeman John Dines, who conducted a three year relationship with a woman, a member of an anti-capitalist group, simply in order to spy on her and the other members.

It’s a brilliant show, not the angry diatribe it might have been, but thoughtful and measured. At its conclusion, the audience rise to their feet to deliver a well-deserved standing ovation. You can bet that we’ll be booking tickets early for his next show, Trespass, when it comes to Edinburgh in August.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Broth

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Traverse, Edinburgh

The Traverse Theatre’s A Play, A Pie and A Pint is a fabulous idea: for a mere £12, punters can treat themselves to a warm lunch, a convivial drink, and – of course – some entertainment. It’s a clear attempt to thwart theatre’s (often unfair) elitist reputation; to render play-going a simple, unpretentious event.

Let’s begin with the play. This one (the last in PPP’s Spring season), Broth by Tim Primrose, starts very well indeed: three women, a kitchen and a blood-soaked man. The man is Jimmy, a terrifying patriarch, husband, father and grandfather – respectively – to Mary, Sheena and Ally. It seems that Mary has, for once, fought back: Jimmy is unconscious, maybe even dead, and his blood is everywhere – all over the table cloth, the kettle, his clothes and his face. The three women unite as they try to work out what to do.

The premise is strong, and the characters convince. Their voices are appealingly authentic, the Scots dialect employed with knowing wit and a lightness of touch. The performances rarely falter, and the relationships are beautifully flawed. It’s funny too: that raw, black humour that epitomises domestic tragedies such as this. It’s hard to single out an individual actor for praise; this is a real ensemble piece, and they work together to create a fully-realised world.

Unfortunately, the plotting doesn’t seem as strong as the other elements: after a tight forty minutes, the story starts to waver, becoming repetitive and unfocused. It’s still enjoyable, but there’s no peril left, and the half-hinted at idea of the metaphysical (‘It hurt when you killed me’) is never really developed, so that it feels like a wasted concept – a strange red herring that adds nothing to the play.

Still, it’s well worth seeing, and would work well away from a traditional theatre setting too: this is a play that would translate effectively to a school hall or a community centre or a working men’s club. It’s a welcome slice of kitchen-sink – and at its best when its not trying to be anything else.

Oh – and the pie was lovely.

3.2 stars

Susan Singfield

Hedda Gabler

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10/04/15

Lyceum, Edinburgh

Edinburgh’s Lyceum is a beautiful Victorian theatre, and a delightful place to visit in its own right; it’s hard to imagine anyone could be unimpressed by the perfectly preserved intricacies of its decor; the sumptuous blues, golds and reds, redolent of old-fashioned luxury. It’s lovely.

If this, along with the choice of an Ibsen piece, suggests a staid, old-fashioned production, then nothing could be further from the truth. This version of Hedda Gabler (adapted by Richard Eyre and directed by Amanda Gaughan) is vivacious and sprightly; as fast and funny as it is heartbreaking and tragic. Nicola Daley, as Hedda, is never less than utterly engaging; she clearly revels in the role, and captures perfectly the awful attractiveness of Hedda’s reckless malevolence. By the end, we feel sorry for Hedda, but we never lose sight of how dangerous she is.

The supporting cast is strong too: I love Sally Edwards’ Aunt Juju – a real Miss Bates of a character – as irritating and vapid as she is charming and kind; Benny Young, as Judge Brack, oozes sly debauchery concealed beneath a layer of respectability so thin that only Juju is taken in. Jade Williams convinces as the outwardly naive – but ultimately hard-headed – Thea, and Jack Tarlton’s swaggering energy makes Loevborg’s wild dissolution a physical, menacing thing.

The set is marvellous too: the light, fresh, open design makes for a queasy juxtaposition with the suffocation Hedda feels in her home, her marriage, her social class. It underscores the point for us that poor George will never be able to give her what she needs; no open window will ever offer enough air.

I loved this play. I can’t fault it. I’m still thinking about the characters twenty-four hours later, contemplating their behaviours and their fates. A fabulous piece of theatre.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Anna Karenina

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24/03/15

Royal Exchange, Manchester

Tolstoy’s classic tale of blighted love gets a stripped-down, eclectic interpretation at the Exchange, replete with multi-ethnic casting and a selection of accents that range from deepest cockney to broad Scottish. Adapted by Jo Clifford, this co-production with the West Yorkshire Playhouse casts Oblonsky (Ryan Early) as the play’s occasional narrator. Rakish and dissolute though he may be, (Early’s playful performance is one of the production’s strongest cards) he’s also the only character here who actually seems to be enjoying himself. Elsewhere all is woe and misery.

Anna (Ony Uhiara) is a faithful and dutiful wife, happy with her marriage to the older Karenin (Jonathan Keeble) until she sets eyes upon the dashing Count Vronsky (Robert Gilbert), the moment accentuated by the use of a dazzling spotlight beamed in from outside the performing area. She embarks on an affair which will have catastrophic consequences for her and those around her. Production designer Joanna Scotcher has chosen a minimalistic set, through which run a set of train tracks along which a pair of tables are pushed backwards and forwards across a central pit of earth. Through the course of the action, the latter is used to represent the earthy attributes of the likeable but muddled Levin (John Cummins), the grubby stigma attached to a married woman carrying on so brazenly and it even provides the opportunity for Karenin to (quite literally) sling some mud at his unfaithful wife. It could be argued that this symbolism is somewhat overused (and it must have been a nightmare for the play’s costume department!) but it would have been nice to see a couple of bigger set-pieces along the way – the death by train that kicks proceedings off is criminally understated and the famous horse race that is the story’s centrepiece requires all our powers of imagination to envisage.

That said, this is an accessible production of what can, in the wrong hands, be a rather ponderous story. Clifford’s skilful script clearly delineates the various strands of the tale and over the space of nearly three hours, proceedings never lose pace. It’s interesting to note that six members of the same cast will be taking on the Bruntwood Prize-winning play The Rolling Stone from Tuesday 21st of April.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Beating McEnroe

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27/03/15

The Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

We enter the theatre to find a bearded man dressed in a tennis headband and a towelling bathrobe. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor silently contemplating a pile of tennis balls. As the crowd continues to shuffle to their seats, he starts to throw the balls to people and urges them to throw them back. Then, once everyone is assembled, he gets us all to chant some kind of repetitive mantra.The man is Jamie Wood and the show is Beating McEnroe, a monologue about the infamous Wimbledon showdown between Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe in 1980. It’s also about how the young Jamie came to terms with always being whupped at tennis by his older brother. It’s about hero worship and the awful realisation that one day, all heroes must inevitably be bested, often by people who don’t seem to deserve the acclaim. Along the way there’s some slapstick, some dancing and some very funny visual jokes. Wood’s charming persona allows him to effortlessly manipulate the audience into helping him out, acting as his umpires, his ball boys and girls even at one point impersonating him (nice one Susan!) and his big brother. This is interactive theatre at its best and while it’s undeniably a piece of fluff, it’s fluff that’s performed with great skill and a disarming lightness of touch – enough to earn it a nomination for a Total Theatre Award at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe.

I had the task of tying a carton of table salt to Jamie’s head, which might sound decidedly odd, but which resulted in the funniest visual gag of the night. I felt as though somehow I had contributed to the evening and left feeling rather pleased with myself. We caught this performance at the end of it’s run at the Traverse, but those seeking a genuinely entertaining night at the theatre could do a lot worse than booking to see this at the Lowry in Salford where it plays for just one night on Saturday 28th of March. You’ll believe a man can become a human tennis ball!

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Caucasian Chalk Circle

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Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh 17/02/15

This is one of those productions that makes me want to bottle its essence, and use it when – in my day job as a drama teacher – I am introducing a class of students to Brecht and his ideas. There’s a danger, sometimes, of presenting him as too difficult or serious (he is, of course, both – it’s the ‘too’ that’s the problem), and of the alienation effect coming to mean something quite different within the confines of the classroom.

But this production was so enchanting and funny and lively and, yes, engaging (sorry) that no one in the audience could fail to feel its impact. From the moment we entered the theatre, we were made witness to events. The stage was huge and cluttered, with all curtains removed and the wings exposed; costumes hung on rails, and actors moved around the stage, gossiping, going over lines, checking their props. After a while, a couple of actors came down into the audience and chatted. ‘D’youse know much about Brecht?’ one of them asked the woman next to me. ‘Nothing at all,’ she replied, and the actor hunched down on the floor beside her, and gave a quick précis of the ideas behind epic theatre. This deliberate negation of any notion of naturalism or realism was only made more stark by the opulent beauty of the late 19th century Lyceum theatre, with its proscenium arch and ornate boxes. This was no black box of a space, where experimental theatre is par for the course; it was a studied and deliberate clash of theatrical styles, and it worked – big time.

The production was overtly musical, with a glorious performance by Sarah Swire as the singer/narrator, acting as a kind of rock-chick Greek chorus to keep up the momentum. The pace never flagged: this was an energetic ensemble piece, whose fourteen actors contrived to create the sense that they were many more. John Kielty was another standout, in a variety of roles, but most notably as the Governer’s snobbish wife; he clearly revelled in the drag and campery. Christopher Fairbank (as Adzak, among others) also made his mark, not least for his impressive rendition of a wide variety of accents.

The direction (by Mark Thomson) was stunning. It’s hard to single out particular moments in such a seamless production, but I did love the depiction of the rickety bridge, with an enormous fan blowing a paper blizzard, while three wooden planks were moved in front of Grusha (Amy Manson), their wobbling placement creating a real sense of the crevasse she was crossing and the danger she faced. The puppet used to represent Michael was another delight, skillfully manipulated by Adam Bennett, who breathed life into the (polystyrene?) head, forcing us to confront the very real dilemmas Grusha had to resolve.

All in all, this was a fabulous and celebratory piece of theatre: dazzling, spectacular, and – above all – thought-provoking. It’s on until the 14th March. Go and see it if you can.

5 stars

Susan Singfield