Ana Ines Jabares-Pita | Bouquets & Brickbats

06/08/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Occasionally you see a production that not only exceeds your expectations, but sends you out of the theatre exhilarated by its sheer invention. The Grand Old Opera House Hotel is one such play, a piece that fearlessly swings for the fences and hits all of its targets bang on. Part slapstick, part comic-opera, part mad-as-a-box-of-frogs spectacle, this is something you really don’t want to miss.

Aaron (Ali Watt) arrives at the titular establishment for his staff training and quickly learns that the recently rebuilt hotel is suffering from teething troubles. The electronic door numbers keep changing without warning, the lights flicker constantly and Aaron can hear people singing. A staff member tells him that, back in the day, the place was an actual opera house. It burned down sometime in the 1920s, killing the show’s cast in the process. Could Aaron be hearing their ghosts?

One of the singers he can hear is actually his opera-obsessed colleague, Amy (Karen Fishwick) – but Aaron doesn’t know that. He naturally thinks the place is haunted. If he just met up with Amy, in person, it would all be explained in an instant, but in a building with so many rooms, that’s not going to be easy…

It’s almost pointless to talk about the plot other than to say it all makes a twisted kind of sense. This delicious, sprawling extravaganza galumphs merrily through a whole gamut of different moods, characters and connections, barely stopping to draw a diaphragmatic breath. Isobel McArthur’s script is playful and exciting, while Ana Inés Jabares Pita’s set design opens up and interconnects like a Chinese puzzle box. Director Gareth Nicholls keeps his six-strong cast on their toes, moving through a whole series of lightning-fast costume changes, interacting, singing and sometimes even dancing for all they’re worth. It feels as though there are a lot more than half a dozen people on that stage. And in a way, there are.

McArthur keeps the pot simmering throughout, moving inexorably towards a tantalisingly prolonged conclusion. This is that rarest of creatures, an ambitious production that takes plenty of risks and somehow never puts a foot wrong. If you’re looking for something you’ll remember long after the final curtain, you’ve come to the right place.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

18/09/18

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s the start of a new season and the Lyceum launches with this groovy co-production with Bristol Old Vic. Twelfth Night, written late in Shakespeare’s career, is surely one of his finest comedies, featuring as it does some very memorable (and genuinely amusing) characters. But of course, there’s no point in doing Shakesy-P (as he’s indelibly known around B & B Towers after listening to the Six soundtrack) if you’ve nothing new to add to the formula.

The conceit here is that we’re at a debauched bacchanalian party in a run down country house. It’s somewhere in the late sixties or early seventies and the guests, having been roistering and jamming for several days, are still reluctant to call an end to the proceedings. One of them happens to be reading a copy of the play, so it is decided they’ll give an impromptu performance of it. Suitable costumes are quickly improvised and, voila! We’re off.

Actually, the very start of proceedings feels a little er… forced and I start to suspect that I’m not going to enjoy this all that much, but happily, that feeling is spectacularly short-lived. The look and morals of the era actually lend themselves very well to this surreal gender-bending comedy of mistaken identities – and, just a few lines into Dawn Sievewright’s spirited performance as Lady Tobi Belch, I am fully on side.

I also love Guy Hughes’ performance as Sir Andrew Aguecheek. He’s dressed like a full glam Elton John, and even blessed with a thoughtful Your Song-style ballad about his former days as a knight-errant. It’s decidedly odd, but it really works.

But it’s the role of Malvolio that is the real gift to any actor. Is there a more heart-rending character in all of the bard’s canon? I suspect not. Christopher Green makes an absolute feast of the role, all buttoned-up and controlled in his earlier manifestation, and then quite spectacular when transported by the power of love. The moment when he prances onstage in yellow cross-gartered stockings and (quite literally) lets his hair down is perhaps the production’s most memorable moment, one that earns an ovation all of its own.

I should also add that musical director Aly Macrae’s turn as a kind of groovy priest, shuffling into view and blessing everything in sight, is one of the funniest things I’ve seen in ages, and that’s without him uttering so much as a word.

Wils Wilson directs with aplomb, the costumes, designed by Ana Ines Jabares-Pita, are delightfully bohemian and, as for the original songs by Meilyr Jones, I think it’s safe to say that Will would have heartily approved of them. Shakespeare haters – and they do exist, I’ve met them – will surely find much here to convert them.

What a brilliant start to the new season!

4.8 stars

Philip Caveney