Jess Williams | Bouquets & Brickbats

21/02/26

Theatr Clwyd, Yr Wyddgrug

Why can’t everybody be like Michael Sheen? He’s an inspiration in the truest sense of the word: a dream combo of determination, integrity, generosity and vision. When the National Theatre of Wales lost its Arts Council funding and subsequently shut down, most of us wrung our hands and despaired. Not Mr Sheen. If Wales needed a national theatre, he thought, then the only question was how to deliver it.

And the answer was: he’d pay for it. He’s been a ‘not-for-profit’ actor since 2021, using his considerable income to fund social causes and charitable projects. And what could be closer to a Welsh thespian’s heart than an institution dedicated to producing, promoting and preserving his beloved Cymru’s theatrical culture?

And so the Welsh National Theatre was born, and here we are – Philip, Mum and I – at the newly-refurbished Theatr Clwyd, ready to see its inaugural production, Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. Although this quintessentially American play seems an odd choice for a Welsh debut, any doubts I have are soon expelled as the production gets underway. Despite the fact that the fictional Grover’s Corners has a very specific location (Wilder describes it as “in New Hampshire, just across the Massachusetts line,” and even provides us with fake co-ordinates), its gentle exploration of everyday life has a universal quality that makes it applicable to small towns everywhere.

Ultimately, Our Town is a celebration of community: an ensemble piece with no sensational storylines or great climactic moments. If that sounds boring, don’t be misled. The whole point of this play is to embrace the ordinary, to highlight the little things that make life worthwhile.

Sheen plays the Stage Manager, a meta-theatrical character who breaks the fourth wall and addresses the audience, narrating and commenting on the action as it unfolds over twelve years.

We first meet the townsfolk in Act 1 (“Daily Life”). It’s 1901 and neighbours Emily Webb (Yasemin Özdemir) and George Gibbs (Peter Devlin) are teenagers, about to graduate high school. Their respective parents, Editor and Mrs Webb (Rhodri Meilir and Nia Roberts) and Dr and Mrs Gibbs (Gareth Tempest and Sian Reese-Williams), represent the steady, family-focused nature of the town. They are good people, not especially ambitious, but determined to provide a secure base for their children, and hopeful that they too will lead decent, contented lives.

Act 2 (which follows without a break) is titled “Love and Marriage” and takes us forward in time to 1904. Emily and George, now 19 years old, are about to tie the knot. There are nerves, excitement, doubts and reassurances – and, ultimately, a joyful wedding.

The twenty-minute interval precedes a distinct shift in tone. The third act (“Death and Eternity”) is almost unbearably poignant. Nine years have passed – and so have some of Grover’s Corners’ inhabitants, including Mrs Soames (Christina Modestou) and alcoholic choir director Simon Stimson (Rhys Warrington). Emily’s little brother, Wally (Aisha-May Hunte), has died of a burst appendix, while George’s mother has succumbed to pneumonia. Their ghosts perch on ladders in the cemetery, looking down on their loved ones as they grieve. The spirits lament the living’s incapacity to notice the small moments, their lack of appreciation for the minutiae of life.

Director Francesca Goodridge manages the pace well: although Grover’s Corners is a tranquil town, the piece still feels vibrant and active, even as it slows down for its final, contemplative third. Movement director Jess Williams’ transitions emphasise the sense of community, as the cast work together to move the simple props, constructing ephemeral churches, public buildings and people’s homes, lending a meditative quality to the play.

In accordance with Wilder’s stage directions, the minimalist set works well: it’s amazing what can be achieved with a few planters and some planks of wood. But I’m especially impressed by the decision to use naturalistic props for the section when a ghost (I won’t reveal whose) goes back to relive a fondly-remembered birthday. Until now, everything has been mimed or suggested, but suddenly we have a real table, real chairs, actual bread dough being kneaded, bowls, cutlery, table cloths, the lot. I love the simplicity of the symbolism, as the ghost appreciates the details that the living take for granted.

Our Town is a triumph, a testament to what can be achieved when rich people give back to the communities that raised them.

Da iawn, Welsh National Theatre. And diolch yn fawr, Michael Sheen.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

20/07/24

Theatr Clwyd, Mold

Patrick Hamilton’s 1929 play, loosely based on the Leopold and Loeb murder case of a few years earlier, is these days mostly remembered for Alfred Hitchcock’s 1948 movie adaptation, a film that famously changed the rules of cinema to incorporate its theatrical origins. This ingenious production – by Theatr Clwyd’s resident company – layers Hamilton’s (occasionally quite expository) script with slick movement sequences, which are mostly used to indicate the deteriorating psychological state of one of its protagonists.

Jack Hammett (Wyndham Brandon) and his partner in crime, Granillo (Chorag Benedict Lobo), have kidnapped and murdered a young colleague, using that titular length of rope to strangle him – for no reason other than to see if they can get away with it. This isn’t a spoiler, by the way, because at the play’s start we witness the two of them placing their victim’s body into a trunk which stands centre stage throughout. Hamilton’s play isn’t so much a ‘whodunnit?’ as a ‘will-they-get-away-with-it?’

The smug and confident Hammett and the highly-strung Granillo have carried out the murder as a way of demonstrating their superiority over the rest of humanity – Hammett is a devoted reader of Nietzche – and, to further elaborate their point, they have planned to throw a little party for an odd assortment of guests, one of whom is Sir Johnstone Kentley (Keiron Self), the murdered boy’s father. The trunk will be used in place of a table to serve food and drink and Hammett will even jokingly tell his guests that it contains a dead body.

The play opens in almost total darkness, the two criminals making their plans by the light of matches, while the rest of the cast are already onstage, silent witnesses to their conversation. The party ensues and the guests enter one by one, greeted by the central duo’s faithful butler, Sabot (Felipe Pacheco), who knows nothing about the crime. The visitors include the nice but ineffectual Kenneth (Rhys Warrington) and chatty socialite Leila (Emily Burnett). Of course, there’s always one guest at a party who overstays his welcome and in this case it’s Rupert Cadell (Tim Pritchett), who has been around the block a few times and whose suspicions have been aroused. He’s clearly keen to have a look at the contents of that trunk…

This is an inventive production that explores the possibilities of the original play with flair. If it’s not entirely sure of itself in the first half, it certainly gathers strength in the second and I love the closing stretches where the compact performance space is steadily stripped bare of hiding places, the cruel intentions of the murderers finally exposed to the cold light of day.

Brandon is particularly impressive as the callous and self-possessed Hammett, a man so convinced of his own genius that he’s prepared to risk everything to prove a point. And I particularly enjoy Emily Pithon’s portrayal of Mrs Debenham, who makes the most of a tricky role which only offers her the occasional line and a series of sardonic expressions. Frances Goodridge directs the piece with skill and movement director Jess Williams’ Frantic Assembly-style sequences add verve and vigour to the proceedings.

Rope is an assured and intriguing piece of theatre, a slow burner that steadily builds to a powerful blaze.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney