Rae Smith

One Day: The Musical

17/03/26

The Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh

The genius of David Nicholls’ 2009 novel lies in its central conceit, with July 15th assuming a profound significance. According to folklore, St Swithin’s Day’s weather is prophetic: whatever we wake up to that morning, come rain or shine, we’re in for another forty days of it. For Edinburgh students Dexter and Emma, it’s the date of their graduation party – and it signifies the start of something destined to last a lot longer than six weeks. Their 1988 brief encounter on their final night in the city is the start of a lifelong friendship. We catch up with them every year on this symbolic day for a snapshot of what they’re up to, sometimes together, sometimes apart. Though occasionally wobbly, the relationship survives their divergent paths as they navigate their respective ways through the minefields of adult life: careers and families, dreams and disappointments. The structure allows for an expansive narrative while still focusing on the minutiae. No wonder screenwriters couldn’t wait to get their mitts on it, as evidenced by the speedy release of Lone Scherfig’s 2011 film, and – more recently – the 2024 Netflix miniseries.

And now, perhaps inevitably, there’s this musical – a co-production by the Lyceum and Melting Pot, adapted by David Greig and directed by Max Webster. With music by Abner and Amanda Ramirez, One Day is both exuberant and memorable, a fitting celebration for the Lyceum’s 60th anniversary.

From the moment we enter the auditorium, there’s no mistaking the extravagance and ambition of Rae Smith’s design; the venue has been reconfigured beyond recognition, creating an in-the-round performance space from this 19th-century end-on theatre. We’re in tiered seating on what is usually the stage; the lower stalls are covered with a revolving wooden floor; the proscenium arch is lined with bulbs like a Hollywood mirror, reflecting the other half of the audience back at us. There are cabaret-style seats as well, making this an altogether different experience from the more traditional one we’re used to here. It’s exciting and audacious, priming us for what’s to come.

Dexter (Jamie Muscato) and Emma (Sharon Rose) make an appealing pair. They’re stock characters in a way – his posh-boy entitlement contrasting with her scrappy working-class determination – but they’re fleshed out enough for us to see beyond these stereotypes. If first-class honours student Emma is infuriating at times – settling for too little, with her job in a crappy restaurant and a boyfriend (Dan Buckley) she doesn’t love – then Dexter is immeasurably more so, squandering his unearned privilege and refusing to grow up. But we care about them too: they’re sweet and funny and vulnerable in their own ways, and we want them to succeed, both individually and together. The two leads are perfectly cast, imbuing the protagonists with warmth and humanity – and their vocals are impressive too.

The ensemble provide outstanding support in a variety of guises, from key characters such as Dexter’s parents (Josefina Gabrielle and David Birrell) and Em’s best friend, Tilly (the wonderfully-named Miracle Chance), to a crowd of 90s ravers and a whispering maze. Webster’s direction is overtly theatrical, playing with dramatic techniques to excellent effect. I especially like the physical manifestation of Dexter’s breakdown, as the actors cling to a literal lifeline, encircling him in his despair.

Carrie-Ann Ingrouille’s choreography complements and enhances the sprightly tone of the production, the 14-strong cast often seeming more numerous. Musical director Nigel Lilley leads his band with a matching ebullience, so that – despite the poignancy of the ending – the over-arching mood is one of verve and vivacity. It’s a clever balance.

Of course, I can’t leave this review without mentioning Imogen Brown, one of three young actors playing Dexter’s daughter, Jasmine. We’ve chosen tonight’s showing specifically because Imogen is performing: I know her from a drama class I teach. She’s every bit as professional and engaging as I would expect her to be, the role adding depth to Dexter’s character, as well as hope for his future.

A fabulous production all round, One Day: The Musical well deserves the success it has already achieved in its Edinburgh debut, and is sure to consolidate this when it transfers to the West End.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Macbeth

23/10/18

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

We were awed by the original version of this production, which we saw at the cinema via NT Live earlier in the year (https://bouquetsbrickbatsreviews.com/2018/05/12/macbeth-3/). Still, marvellous as the National Theatre’s outreach programme is, it’s not the same as seeing a live show, and so we were delighted to learn that the Scottish play was heading out on tour. We wrote the Edinburgh date in our diary, and eagerly anticipated its arrival. How would director Rufus Norris and designer Rae Smith handle the transition from the Olivier Theatre with its drum revolve stage to the myriad regional venues and their proscenium arches? Would they be able to retain at least some of the stature of the set, the awful bleakness of the London show?

They would. They did. The bridge that arcs over the central wasteland is smaller, sure, and moved by hand, but its construction is ingenious. Homes – damaged, mostly, with bare concrete walls and broken furniture – are two-sides of a wheeled box, spun as we move from outside to in. The lighting (by Paul Pyant) is eerie and atmospheric, all mottled shadows and clear bright shafts.

Usually, I’m irked when Macbeth is played by a middle-aged actor: to me, the character exemplifies a ‘young pretender’ – not just ambitious but impatient and impetuous, careless of consequence, swaggering in self-belief. He’s a fine soldier, but newly recognised as such; I’d place him at twenty, tops. But here, in this post-apocalyptic vision of the Macbeths’ world, fifty-year-old Michael Nardone’s casting as the eponymous anti-hero makes perfect sense. This is a war-torn nowhere/anywhere, adrift in time, as much now as then, and it’s dog-eat-dog; he doesn’t have a lot to lose. There are indeed daggers in men’s smiles; only the fittest can survive. Kirsty Besterman makes a decent Lady Macbeth too – her husband’s equal, complicit in his downfall, but not the evil cause of it.

I like the depiction of the witches; in this war-torn landscape they seem more displaced than supernatural, feral rather than ethereal. There’s a telling contrast between the ramshackle, held-together-with-gaffa-tape body armour of the rebels, and the fit-for- purpose equipment of the English troops. And the sound design (by Paul Arditti) builds a pervading sense of unease; these are very troubled times.

I’m relieved and delighted that the touring production is so good. I know this interpretation of the play has been quite controversial, but it really works for me. I think it captures the very essence of Macbeth and illuminates the themes and characters with great clarity.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Macbeth

10/05/18

Let’s face it, Macbeth’s biggest problem is its ubiquity. Easily the most accessible of Shakespeare’s plays – and arguably one of the most powerful – we’ve seen so many average versions of it over the years (amongst which I am inclined to include Justin Kurzel’s 2015 film adaptation) that a production really needs to do something very special with the source material in order to make it an enticing proposition. I’m therefore delighted to say that the National Theatre’s latest production, directed by Rufus Norris and seen here via a live cinema linkup,  does exactly that, giving us a Macbeth that rivals the very best of them.

It almost goes without saying that both Rory Kinnear (in the title role) and Anne Marie Duff (as his manipulative wife) submit exceptional performances, giving those oh-so-familiar lines enough oomph to make you feel as though you’re actually hearing them for the first time. No mean feat.  But it’s the production design that really shines. This version takes place in what might well be a post-apocalyptic world, where a civil war has just been bloodily disputed and where everything has a grungy ‘make do and mend’ look. Severed heads are proudly displayed in supermarket carrier bags, food is served in battered mess tins and even Macbeth’s armour is contrived from found items battered into shape, which have to be literally gaffa-taped onto him before each battle. Duncan (Stephen Boxer)’s royal regalia comprises an ill-fitting red velvet suit, that might have been salvaged from a charity shop. It provides the one splash of vibrant colour in an otherwise drab and scuffed world.

Production designer Rae Smith has created a huge wood and metal arch upon which much of the action plays out. It somehow contrives to be both heavily industrial yet strangely ethereal as it swings silently back and forth. It is poised over a revolving circular stage, so that each successive scene can glide effortlessly into position. In one sequence, the Weird Sisters move with the turning of that central wheel like the protagonists of a particularly disturbing nightmare. There’s some great use of regional accents: Trevor Fox’s Porter is a dour Geordie; Patrick O’ Kane’s MacDuff a pugnacious Irishman. Oh, and the element that lets down so many stage productions – that climactic battle – is delivered here with enough zeal and gusto to be truly convincing. You’ll believe that a head can be bloodily severed.

Of course, if you’re reading this and you weren’t at last night’s showing, you’ve already missed your chance to see the live broadcast, but the good news is that the production is heading out on a UK and Ireland tour from late September, so – if it’s showing anywhere near you – do take the opportunity to see it. It will serve to remind you that Shakespeare, when convincingly done, can be truly and utterly enthralling.

5 stars

Philip Caveney