The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

20/12/15

The Lyceum, Edinburgh

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is a well-loved and familiar tale with a guest spot for Santa Claus; no wonder it’s become a staple family Christmas show. And the Lyceum’s production starts off wonderfully; the design (by Becky Minto) is breathtaking: the all-important transition from Britain to Narnia eliciting an audible response from the audience.

The parallels between the two worlds (and Narnia’s appeal) are highlighted by the double casting: both places are being torn apart by war but, while in the real world the children are bystanders, exiled from their home with no option but to wait things out, in Narnia they play an active role; they are no longer helpless children, sidelined and ignored.

It’s a shame, then, that some elements of the play seem almost perfunctory. Peter’s battle with Maugrim, for example, lacks any real sense of menace. Some scenes, most notably Aslan’s murder – but there are others too – are crying out for a chorus: ‘Come, every spirit, every wraith,’ chants the White Witch, played with wonderful malevolence by Pauline Knowles. But no one comes, or hardly anyone: three makes for a very sparse crowd. In Manchester, student choruses seem quite the thing; we’ve seen actors-in-training from local universities employed in several professional productions there and this might have been an idea here. The Lyceum’s Narnia would be more convincing if it were more densely populated.

The children’s delivery is a bit stage-school and declamatory for my taste; they’re not actually kids, of course, but young adults, which might account for the vocal tics as they try to make themselves sound more youthful. And I wish that Aslan were more than just a man in a fur suit.

That said, it’s still a magical show in places, with spark and vim enough to keep a young audience entranced. The final battle scene is beautifully done, all lights and ribbons and roaring sound effects. At its best, this play is very good indeed. It’s just a bit uneven, I suppose.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Tracks of the Winter Bear

19/12/15

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s Christmas time, and the theatres are full of pantomimes and children’s tales. And that’s fine: I love a good panto, and some of my favourite stories are written (primarily) for a younger audience. But variety is the spice of life, they say, so the Traverse’s grown-up alternative is a very welcome thing.

Tracks of the Winter Bear comprises two short plays, companion pieces exploring the themes of love and loss. They’re separate yet linked, both intrinsically Edinburgian, set in the Abbeyhill district of the city. The same pub is referenced in both (The Regent Bar), and the two protagonists (Shula and Jackie) are  both lonely, middle-aged women, trying  – in their very different ways – to make some sense of their lives.

Act 1, by Stephen Greenhorn, is my favourite of the two. Using reverse chronology, it charts the tragic love affair of Shula (Deborah Arnott) and Avril (Karen Bartke). It’s a bleak but ultimately beautiful piece, with thoughtful, nuanced performances; Arnott, in particular, seems to embody the brittle hurt of grief.

Act 2 is an altogether stranger beast, telling the tale of a mangy polar bear and a washed-up Mother Christmas, both escapees from a tawdry Winter Wonderland theme park. The bear, cast adrift and hunted in an unknown land, speaks in the voices of those she has killed. Mother Christmas, or Jackie – played with bar-room swagger by the delightful Kathryn Howden – befriends her with promises of shortbread and love, and the two embark on an unlikely journey ‘home.’ It’s a fascinating premise and it’s very well-played (Caroline Deyga’s Bear is physically compelling), but it seems a little uncertain of its way, forsaking the early, earthy humour for a less engaging attempt at profundity.

Both pieces use what is essentially the same set, a narrow, snow-covered traverse stage (ironically, this is the first time we have seen this configuration at the, ahem, Traverse theatre). It’s curtained with a light gauze, which serves both to hint at snow in the air, and to create a misty, fairy-tale-like quality. The mirror-audience, visible throughout, magnifies my own reactions; it’s the perfect staging choice for this production, I think.

Overall, then, this is definitely one to watch. It’s interesting and original, and a welcome respite from all the feel-good fare.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

The Sound of Music

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The Lowry Lyric Theatre, Salford Quays

There’s no other option but to own up on this one – I have always hated this musical. I appreciate that I’m in a minority here, because as blockbusters go, it’s one of the most successful of all time, with an ardent following of die hard fans, the kind of people who will happily camp out for weeks in order to secure a ticket – but I’ve always found its uneasy mix of syrupy songs, precocious children and the most unthreatening Nazis ever seen on stage or screen, somewhat hard to stomach. Just a few bars of ‘The Hills Are Alive…’ and I’m a kid again, trapped at home on a drizzly Sunday afternoon, with my parents watching the film on television and commenting on how ‘nice’ Julie Andrews seems.

So naturally, I approached this assignment with some trepidation. The Lyric theatre was packed with eager punters as the overture began and then the curtain rose and we were in a (pretty convincing) nunnery where four ladies in black habits were asking us how they could possibly solve a problem like Maria (The Voice finalist, Lucy O Byrne). The next thing we know, she’s been enlisted as governess to the seven children of war hero Captain Von Trapp (Gray O’ Brian) and is teaching them that doe is a female deer and ray, a drop of golden sun…

It’s pointless to go over the plot because unless you’ve lived as a hermit all your life, you’ll surely already know exactly what happens. And here’s the thing. Though I can appreciate how professionally this production is delivered – perfectly judged harmonies, elaborate sets that glide effortlessly into place, faultless choreography, this isn’t going to change my mind about Rodgers and Hammerstein’s greatest success. It still feels like treacle pudding with extra treacle. But neither can I reasonably criticise the way its been done (other than to observe that Mr O’ Brian was having a bit of a bad night of it in the vocal department) and neither can I deny the warmth of the standing ovation enjoyed by the cast at the end, with a particularly enthusiastic response given to Jan Hartley as the Mother Abbess, whose climactic rendition of Climb Every Mountain was delivered with enough energy to power the National Grid.

So I’ll simply say this. If The Sound of Music is already a favourite of yours, you’re unlikely to feel shortchanged by this production. If you’re coming to it with no expectations whatsoever, you may find yourself wondering what all the fuss is about.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Inkheart

11/12/15

Home, Manchester

‘Tis the season of theatrical family fayre, when children’s stories are plundered for festive productions, with often mixed results.

Inkheart started life as a novel by Cornelia Funke, evolved into a successful film, and now struts its stuff as a lively Christmas play. It tells the tale of twelve-year-old Meggie (Katherine Carlton) and her father, Mo (Paul McEwan), whose ‘Silvertongue’ status means that, when they read aloud, characters step from the pages of their books, and blunder into the real world. Meggie and Mo embark upon a desperate quest to save the last copy of the eponymous book, protecting it from the villains who wish to destroy it.

The set comprises a mountain of books, with shelves and steps cunningly concealed. It rotates and tips, and is used effectively to represent a home, a library, a beach and a car; it’s really quite a lovely thing. And the production starts well: the narration (provided by Kelly Hotten) is clear and engaging, and the disruption of Meggie’s world by the appearance of the mysterious Dustfinger (Andrew Sheridan) is nicely unsettling. Carlton is uncannily convincing as a twelve-year-old, and Rachel Atkins, as Elinor, is a comic delight.

Overall, it doesn’t quite work for me though. It’s not as light as it needs to be; it’s pedestrian when it needs to fly. The fire-juggling, for example, just  isn’t spectacular enough, and the panto-villain antics of Basta and Flatnose (Darryl Clark and Griffin Stevens), while competently done, seem at odds with the general tone. The magic isn’t… magical enough, the comedy too clumsy and the scary stuff just doesn’t scare.

Of course, as two adults, we are not the target audience. There were a lot of kids watching with us tonight, and they seemed to find it an utter joy. One for the children, then, but without much to commend it to the grown-ups accompanying them…

3 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Into The Woods

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09/12/15

Royal Exchange Manchester

As Christmas draws inexorably nearer, the Royal Exchange have indulged themselves in the family-friendly epic that is Into The Woods. As ever, Manchester’s premier theatre aren’t doing things by halves. With a cast of nineteen and a running time of three hours, Stephen Sondheim’s celebrated fairytale mashup is a challenging production in every sense of the word.

I have to put my hand up at this stage and admit that Sondheim isn’t a great favourite in our household. Sure, James Lapine’s lyrics are quirky and clever but sometimes, I find myself wishing that Sondheim would just offer us a couple of great melodies, something to sing in the shower. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that this is a superb production and that Sondheim fans (of which there are many) are going to be delighted with what’s on offer here. It’s a big step up too from the recent lacklustre movie version. Certainly the audience on the night we attended were clearly thrilled by what they saw and, little wonder, because choreographing a cast of this size in and around the compact circular stage of the Exchange requires the kind of discipline normally reserved for synchronised swimming events.

ITW is essentially an amalgamation of all your favourite fairytales – Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella, Rapunzle… given a satirical twist. The first half of the show offers a traditional happy ending and the second, gleefully subverts that, pointing out that most situations don’t tend to fit into such a convenient format. In a strong ensemble cast it’s tough to pick out favourites but Gillian Bevan, as The Witch, certainly casts a compelling spell whenever she’s on stage, while Alex Gaumond as The Baker, is a likeable performer with a plaintive singing voice. A shout must also go to young David Moorst as Jack, who’s gormless manner garners much laughter.

There’s plenty here to delight an audience, not least the ingenious staging, which manages to make a convincing forest sprout up right in front of our eyes; and there’s a wolf-evisceration scene that genuinely made the audience gasp in a ‘how did they do that?’sort of way. Oh yes, there’s also a fleeting appearance by a golf buggy… well, why not?

This is a Christmas cracker of a show, suitable for people of all ages, even if you won’t go home singing any of the songs, because they’re just a bit too complicated for that. If you’re planning a seasonal family outing, this could be the perfect  thing to get you into the festive spirit. Book now while the going’s good.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Victor Frankenstein

6/12/15

I promised myself I wouldn’t compare this film to Mary Shelley’s novel, because that way lies discontent. And, if I haven’t quite succeeded in honouring that promise (how could I, really?), I have at least tried to view it on its own terms.

And, on those terms, it really works. It’s a handsome, exciting, rollicking film, where every emotion is heightened and every deed is desperate. Victor (James MacAvoy) is viewed through Igor (Daniel Radcliffe)’s eyes, and so is admirable even at his most flawed. He is, after all, Igor’s saviour, having wrought a bright apprentice  from the unpromising ‘freak’ he encountered at the circus.

It’s not as if the film is even trying to be faithful to the book; it’s not purporting to tell the same story. It’s just a riff on the central premise: a young genius driven mad by obsession, unable to comprehend the consequences of his all-consuming work. MacAvoy’s performance is a delight: exaggerated to the point of mania, his delivery is never less than compelling. And Radcliffe’s comparative understatement makes him the perfect foil: his moral compass compromised by the gratitude he feels.

It all looks suitably fantastic. The circus is a visual confection of grubbiness and glamour, and London’s Victorian streets have a shabby, bright-lit charm. Victor’s laboratory is a magical labyrinth of odd contraptions, where bookshelves stretch beyond all boundaries. It’s visceral too, not least when Victor ‘takes the pus’ out of Igor’s supposed hunch, and the creatures (especially the putative chimp-based horror) are decidedly unpleasant.

For me, though, it’s the creatures that let this down. I know, I know – there’s no point in saying this didn’t happen in the book. But the point (the main point) is surely to explore why Frankenstein’s creation becomes a monster, and this could so easily have been raised here too. Instead, both creatures are murderous from the moment they flex their muscles, and it’s hard to fathom why two such intelligent men would – after their violent encounter with the first – proceed to make another, let alone one so huge and powerful – without considering what makes him who he is.

Still, these are doubtless only quibbles for those who love the book – and this film is certainly not made with us in mind. It’s a fun movie, an enjoyable experience. With that in mind, why not give it a go?

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Lord of the Flies

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05/12/15

The Lowry Theatre, Salford Quays

Lord of the Flies is one of my all time favourite novels, so I was excited to see this production, first shown in the open air at London’s Regent’s Park. How, I wondered, would director, Anthony Sheader, stage a story that is set in a variety of locations on a remote jungle-covered island? Well, as it turned out, quite brilliantly.

The set bears some description as it is instrumental to the success of this production. The stage is dominated by the fuselage of a crashed plane. One of its wings forms a ramp along which characters can enter and exit. The tailplane provides an upper level from which characters can stand to survey ‘the island.’ In the foreground, the detritus of the crash extends right to the feet of the audience in the front row of the stalls, almost including them in the scene. As the story unfolds, trapdoors are opened and closed to provide yet more levels in Souvenir Scenic’s ingenious set.

The script has cleverly updated the story to contemporary times – there are aborted selfie-stick moments, and even an allusion to a ‘new war’ from which the children were fleeing. Unlike the source novel, the pupils come from a variety of backgrounds – Jack and his choristers clearly hail from a top flight public school, Ralph from a mid range one and Piggy, a bluff Northerner, from a comprehensive. This all helps to emphasise the cruelty of the bullying suffered by Piggy and the other, weaker boys and makes their ultimate fate all the more compelling.

It’s pointless to single out individual actors for praise as this is a true ensemble piece, but plaudits must go to choreographer, Jonathan Holby, who manages to co-ordinate the movements of his large cast flawlessly, regularly cutting between normal speed and slo-motion to display simultaneous events. The final ‘hunting’ of Ralph, builds steadily to a thrilling climax and the sense of shame at the play’s conclusion is utterly heartbreaking.

This is a superb adaptation of a literary masterpiece. We saw it on it’s final date at the Lowry, but the show will be touring the country in 2016. If it lands anywhere near you, please ensure you grab the opportunity to see it. It’s too good to miss.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Doctor Zhivago

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02/12/15

It’s hard for me to accept but it’s been fifty years since I saw this film. It was in 1965 in a Chinese cinema in Singapore, where the idea of a snowbound landscape seemed an impossible fantasy. I remember, as a boy, being absolutely blown away by the experience. It was one of the first ‘serious’ films I’d ever watched, though I also seem to remember that many of the critics of the time were rather unkind to David Lean’s interpretation of Boris Pasternak’s best-selling novel, accusing it of being a ‘chocolate box’ movie.

So it’s great to be able to reassess it on the big screen and to realise that whole sections of the film have remained with me, imprinted indelibly on my unconscious mind; and to confirm that this really is an ‘old school’ epic of admirable power and grandeur. I didn’t know it then, of course, but Lean had one heck of a struggle to realise his vision. Unable to film in Russia, he had to make do with locations in Madrid, (in summer) his actors sweating under layers of fur. Other shots were secured in Finland, Canada and Portugal. A cavalry charge across a frozen lake was recreated by placing a cast iron sheet across a dry Spanish river bed and sprinkling it with plaster dust.  Not that any of that is evident. You’ll rarely see a more convincing evocation of winter landscapes.

Dr Zhivago is essentially a poignant love story, set against the turbulent events of a changing Russia. It begins with Yevgraf (Alec Guinness) a policeman in the ‘new’ Soviet Union, trying to find the lost daughter of his half brother, celebrated poet, Yuri Zhivago and his lover, Lara. Could it be ‘The Girl’ (Rita Tushingham)? From there, the story cuts back to Yuri’s tragic childhood and then moves on to the tumultuous events of the First World War and the Russian Revolution, where the lives of both Yuri and Lara are forever linked and transformed by the horrors of war.

It’s totally engaging, even at a bum-numbing 193 minutes. (Those with weak bladders will be glad to hear that the film still features its original fifteen minute intermission). In the title role, Omar Sharif, fresh off Lawrence of Arabia, provides a remarkable calm at the centre of the cinematic storm, while as Lara, Julie Christie has never been more radiant. Add a stellar selection of supporting actors – Alec Guinness, Rod Steiger, Tom Courtenay, Ralph Richardson, and you have a powerful film that dazzles as much today as it did in the decade in which it was released.

But it’s the magnificent set pieces that really linger in the memory: a savage cavalry attack on a protest march, with Zhivago’s tortured expression conveying the true horror of the situation unfolding in front of him; a packed railway station, where Zhivago and his family fight to board a train to the Urals; and a remote country house transformed into a gleaming ice palace by the extremes of the Russian winter. What’s even more remarkable is that this was all achieved without the benefits of CGI and other contemporary special effects – Doctor Zhivago is a tribute to all the technicians, set builders and costume designers who toiled to make David Lean’s remarkable vision a reality. Fifty years on, it still stands as a beacon of extraordinary creativity and a tribute to a man’s uncanny ability to film epic stories.

Chocolate box? Well, if that’s the case, tuck in. This is a delicious confection, as tasty now as it ever was.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Bridge of Spies

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29/11/15

Stephen Spielberg wears two hats. There’s the backwards baseball cap he wears when he’s directing superior popcorn entertainments like Indiana Jones and Jurassic Park – and sometimes, he reaches into the back of the wardrobe and pulls out a sombre black homburg, which is his hatwear of choice when helming ‘darker’ material like Schindler’s List and Munich. Bridge of Spies is definitely a homburg movie, but in its quiet own way, its as gripping and involving as any of his other films. Spielberg has the uncanny ability to take the most complex story and tell it with effortless style, making it accessible and involving.

It’s 1957 and the ‘Cold War’ between America and Russia is at its height. Rudolf Abel (Mark Rylance) an apparently innocuous amateur artist is arrested on a charge of spying for the USSR. He is, arguably, the most hated man in America. Veteran lawyer, James B. Donovan (Tom Hanks) is assigned to defend him, mainly because the law must be observed and despite the fact that even the judge on the case openly declares that Abel should be found guilty. But Donovan is a liberal, who believes implicitly in the American constitution. He fights Abel’s case (unsuccessfully) through the courts and finds himself vilified for doing so – but he does manage to prevent him from going to the electric chair, pointing out that Abel might be a useful bargaining tool in the future.

Sure enough, shortly afterwards, American pilot, Francis Gary Powers is shot down whilst carrying out a spy mission over Russian territory. He’s taken prisoner and the CIA are terrified that he might be persuaded to leak the secrets of the U2 spy plane. A possible exchange of prisoners is mooted and once again, Donovan is recruited to head out to East Berlin to negotiate the exchange…

This is a beautifully made film, that brilliantly invokes the austere look of the era and provides a fresh perspective on the business of espionage. Hanks is perfectly cast as the American everyman, a role that would have been played by James Stewart back in the day, his chunky features emanating absolute integrity. Rylance, meanwhile, as the dry, sardonic Abel gives a masterclass in acting. Together, the two actors strike sparks off each other and they are aided and abetted by a razor sharp script, created by Matt Charman and the Coen Brothers.

There’s little to dislike here and plenty to admire. It’s essentially a ‘small’ movie, which tells its story with skill and precision and never puts a foot wrong. As the story moves towards its conclusion, it bills up levels of suspense that will have you twitching in your seat.

Spielberg wears both his hats with equal success but I have to say, I do prefer him in the homburg.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Winter’s Tale

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Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company Plays at the Garrick 

Live Cinema Screening

26/11/15

The Winter’s Tale is something of a curiosity, the work, it seems, of a playwright who was still experimenting even as he neared the end of his career. Like The Tempest, The Winter’s Tale contains romance as well as realism, and attempts to fuse the yin and yang of theatre, encompassing both comedy and tragedy. And, although this play is arguably more uneven than The Tempest, it is, nevertheless, a delight to watch, particularly when performed and directed with such poise.

Live cinema screenings are a godsend to those of us who don’t live in London, allowing us access to plays we wouldn’t otherwise get to see. But the format does have its limitations, most notable in this production in the lighting. Presumably the audience at the Garrick could see perfectly well, but the low lighting didn’t translate well to the big screen, making the whole of the first half rather difficult to discern; indeed, even the lighter, brighter second half seemed curiously muted, considering its lively and pastoral nature.

This aside, the production worked well. Branagh’s is a traditional interpretation of the play, performed with scholarly precision rather than flights of fancy, playing to the strengths of its distinguished cast and crew. Judi Dench is a fine Paulina – of course she is – and Branagh (equally predictably) makes a convincing Leontes. The contrasts – between town and country, prince and pauper, repression and ebullience – are all writ large, and there’s both charm and energy aplenty here.

Why then am I sighing or shrugging when people ask me what I thought of this? I suppose it just seems like I’ve seen it all before: this is a proficient and assured production, but there’s nothing new or exciting about the way it’s done. Maybe there doesn’t need to be; I’m sure there are many theatre-goers who would see this as a positive and, certainly, I’m not a fan of innovation for innovation’s sake. Still, it all feels just a little too familiar to stir enthusiasm.

A good production, but not a thrilling one.

3.9 stars

Susan Singfield