Zoe Roberts, Jak Malone & Natasha Hodgson in Operation Mincemeat Photo: Matt Crockett
This was my first ever visit to the Fortune Theatre, because for the last 33 years it has been the home to The Woman In Black. Now it’s hosting Operation Mincemeat and while it may not match the previous occupant’s three decades, this accomplished, fast-moving musical comedy certainly deserves a long run.
From the moment the yellow curtain goes up on Operation Mincemeat, you know you’re in for a treat. It begins with a chorus number by the five cast members, who start as they mean to go on. They fill the stage with their larger than life characters, exuberant performances and the sheer enjoyment of being there.
Over a couple of hours, we are told the true, albeit embellished, story from World War Two of an MI5 plan to use a dead body with fake papers to fool the German army into thinking the British will invade Sardinia rather than Sicily. However, this is not really a tribute to MI5, more a satire on male chauvinism in general and the Old Boy network in particular.
Operation Mincemeat is written and composed by David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson and Zoë Roberts, developed from an idea that became a run at the tiny New Diorama theatre in London and then polished into a West End show. Currently, all of the creators, less composer Felix Hagan, are in the cast and are joined by Claire Marie Hall and Jak Malone who have fantastic singing voices. The others sing well too. I’m pretty sure the four understudies who are given equal billing in the programme are also multi-talented.
The cast play many parts of both male and female gender, and this adds an additional layer of humour, as when Natasha Hodgson, playing the group’s leader Ewen Montagu, struts with old Etonian entitlement and masculine pomposity. His response to the question ‘Is it legal?’ is ‘Does it matter?’ And he tells us in song:
For we were made to give the orders / While lesser men take heed / For some were born to follow / But we were born to lead.
Outstanding performances
Outstanding is Jak Malone as the secretary Hester, who sings the most moving song of the evening, Dear Bill, a fictitious letter to a soldier on the front line. Zoë Roberts is constantly hilarious as Johnny Bevan, the bureaucratic man ultimately in charge, Ian Fleming with his eccentric ideas for a spy novel, and Haselden, our out-of-his-depth ‘man in Spain’. David Cumming is a riot as the shy, panicking, nerdy Charles, while Claire Marie Hall excels as the artless young assistant Jean.
Zoe Roberts, Jak Malone,, David Cumming, Natasha Hodgson & Claire-Marie Hall in Operation Mincemeat. Photo: Matt Crockett
Many of the routines seem like classic comedy- music hall even. For example, there’s a scene where all five are exchanging and getting tangled in hats, phones and a briefcase, with clockwork precision. And there are moments of stage magic when they change characters and costumes in the blink of an eye.
The cast are greatly aided by having director Robert Hastie and choregrapher Jenny Arnold on board. Both are highly experienced and it shows in the slickness of the production. And yet Operation Mincemeat retains the feel and excitement of a fringe show. The theatre is one of the smallest in the West End with a stage to match. Ben Stones‘ set is deliberately sparse with a couple of desks and chairs, a display board and a mobile staircase, plus a backdrop reminiscent of a map, and, that staple of farces, lots of doors. Until that is, we launch into a very non-fringe-like finale, complete with glittering Nazis, which really is as ‘glitzy’ as they announce.
The songs cross a number of musical genres, with clever, witty lyrics that are often delivered at the sort of breakneck speed that may remind you of Gilbert and Sullivan or Frank Loesser. How about this?
If we cannot storm the beaches / It’s sure to spell defeat / If the muscle-men can’t do it / Call the masters of deceit.
In a way, there is a parallel between the small MI5 team that pulled off this unlikely deceit that helped an invasion, and the small group that created this unexpected hit that invaded the West End. It is an incredibly polished, laugh-out-loud musical, and one that deserves to run and run.
Operation Mincemeat is at the Fortune Theatre until at least 4 November 2023. operationmincemeat.com
Gina Beck and children in The Sound of Music. Photo: Manuel Harlan
I arrived at Chichester Festival Theatre with a lot of prejudice against The Sound Of Music. I’ve never liked nuns (don’t ask), the use of children is so often manipulative, the story is sweeter than aspartame, and the plot is flimsy to nonexistent. And yet Adam Penford‘s production conquered me as surely as Maria wins over Captain Von Trapp.
You’ve almost certainly seen the film version of The Sound Of Music. You’ve definitely heard some of the songs because the soundtrack was the UK’s second best selling album of the 1960s (only Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band outsold it) and it’s still the third best selling soundtrack album of all time. So, even though it came first, the stage show is overshadowed by its screen offspring.
Not that there’s a problem with Maria. Gina Beck brings out all her inner Julie Andrews and more besides to give us a joyful but conflicted character torn between her wish to serve God and her love of the secular world. Her voice is terrific. As is that of Janis Kelly who plays the Mother Abbess. It’s an inspired idea to have an opera singer in this role, giving the part an added authority, and a striking contrast between her maturity and Maria’s youth, when they duet on My Favorite Things. She sends us out of the auditorium at the end of both acts with a rendition of Climb Ev’ry Mountain that is spine tingling.
No matter how saccharine you think the film is, the stage musical is sweeter. If there were ever any sharp edges to any of the characters, they’ve been well and truly sandpapered. The plot verges on the invisible: there’s a romance with the smallest of bumps in the road to marriage, and a slight touch of peril at the end. (At least the film increases the peril.)
Just to remind you, a novice nun goes to help a widower bring up his children, he is buttoned up, she is open in her emotions, he relaxes, they fall in love. In the background, there’s a battle between good and evil as the Nazis from Germany take over Austria and the von Trapps are forced to flee. Although, when I say ‘evil’, the Nazis’ main fault seems to be bad manners.
Then there’s what we sometimes refer to as the attitudes of the time it was written, in this case 1958 when a woman is encouraged to follow every rainbow till she finds her dream, provided her dream is to find a man who will protect her and whom she can look after.
But none of this matters, because we have the gift of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s songs. There have been some recent productions of their musicals where a modern eye has been cast over their perceived shortcomings, but here director Adam Penford has decided not to mess with this classic, and simply let those songs speak from the hearts of their creators to the hearts of the audience.
While The Sound Of Music can seem like a massive step backward from the ground-breaking Oklahoma! which launched their partnership, not to mention South Pacific, Carousel and The King And I. I mean, where is the grittiness, where are the challenges to our thoughts and feelings, where is the driving narrative? But in some ways, it is more modern than its predecessors in that the plot is treated as an excuse to show off a concept about the power of song. Song is the driving force for good in the musical: the hills are alive with it, and it’s the pure emotion of the songs, rather than a narrative, through which characters are explored and developed.
From the title song, to Maria (as in How do we solve a problem like), to My Favorite Things, Do-Re-Mi, Sixteen Going On Seventeen, The Lonely Goatherd, So Long Farewell, Edelweiss and Climb Ev’ry Mountain, the songs provide a lasso that captures your heart, so that what your head thinks really doesn’t matter.
Not that the songs are entirely beyond criticism- I can’t knock Richard Rodgers’ music but Oscar Hammerstein’s lyrics can grate a bit at times. It’s a shame the soaring power of Climb Ev’ry Mountain is slightly undermined by the greetings card lyrics:
A dream that will need, All the love you can give
Every day of your life, For as long as you live.
Then again, he wrote: How do you keep a wave upon the sand? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand? And of course: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens, which may sound like a random search for videos on YouTube but work perfectly.
Exceptional singing
Indeed, the greatest strengths of this production are to do with the sound of the music: the exceptional quality of singing of all the cast, the stirring orchestral adaptations by Larry Blank and Mark Cumberland, and the vigorous orchestra under Matt Samer.
In contrast to the film, some of the key characters are much less interesting in the original stage version. Maria’s love rival Elsa is very nice and that’s about it. even though she is given a vivacious portrayal in this production by Emma Williams. In fact, this is the one aspect of the original stage musical with which Adam Penford appears to have messed. In both the stage and film versions, Elsa is a ‘wealthy socialite’ or, to put it another way, a member if the idle rich. Here she is described as the CEO of a large corporation which, and if I’m wrong I apologise, appears to be an addition to the dialogue. It may be an attempt to acknowledge to a modern audience that marriage and motherhood are not the only choices available to women. However, since she is the rival of our heroic singing housewife Maria, there is a risk that, far from being admired, Elsa may be disparaged for being a career woman.
The character of Captain Georg von Trapp has none of the depth of Christopher Plummer’s movie version. Likeable as his portrayal is, Edward Harrison simply doesn’t have enough to work with. Ako Mitchell impresses as his warm, humorous but ultimately spineless friend Herr Detweiler.
And of course, dammit, along with whiskers on kittens and warm woollen mittens, there are the children. Much as you know you’re being manipulated, it’s hard for your resistance not to crumble when the children are as good as this. Let’s not count the almost adult Liesl, who is beautifully played by Lauren Conroy. It’s the other six, and of course the smallest, Gretl, most of all, who touch us with their enthusiasm and innocence. In fact, on the night I saw the show, Gretl disappeared almost as soon as the show began, and after a short break was replaced by Felicity Walton who was superb.
They may be children but they are not amateurish. Two teams alternate (I saw the Yellow team plus Felicity from the Green team). I don’t doubt each team is equally accomplished, as they confidently sing, act and dance.
The Sound of Music. Photo: Manuel Harlan
This is a good point at which to compliment the choreographer Lizzi Gee, a name always associated with the highest quality of work. You can also see the results of her creativity currently in Groundhog Day at The Old Vic. In this production, she presents one joyous routine after another inspired by and enhancing the music. There’s the gaucheness of young love between Liesl and Rolf (played by Dylan Mason) in Sixteen Going On Seventeen which sees them at first tentative in their contact until they end up splashing delightfully in a fountain. The Captain and Maria share a thrilling first dance which tells you all you need to know about their feelings for one another. The complex movements of the seven children show both their capacity for fun and their unity as a family. (Captain Von Trapp himself could not have produced more disciplined kids.)
I have one disappointment to report: the set. It’s surprising because Robert Jones has a great track record but I just don’t think his design works on this occasion. Leaving the thrust stage pretty empty is a good idea because there’s a big cast and a lot going on, without bits of set to manoeuvre around. However, the backdrop is dark hewn rock capped off by the shape of a mountain range. This may be intended to represent the Alps but, unlike those ‘friendly’ peaks, it is gloomy and claustrophobic. The abbey, the von Trapp house and the concert hall are conjured up by pieces of scenery in front of it. There is no sense of the Austrian open air, sky and nature that Maria and the Captain love and that is meant to add contrast to the confines of the Abbey and the darkness of the Nazis.
Where it does work is in the concert hall, venue for the von Trapp family’s public performance, when it is draped with swastikas, while Nazi soldiers stand in the aisles of the auditorium- a truly chilling moment.
So my prejudices were swept aside by the sound of Rodgers and Hammerstein. Whatever your mood going in, you will feel better when you leave, having seen good conquer evil, and love conquer all.
Daniel Rigby stars in the funniest play in London (probably)
★★★★
Tom Andrews, Tony Gardner & Daniel Rigby (L to R) in Accidental Death Of An Anarchist. Photo: Helen Murray
A maniac arrives at a police station in London and pretends to be a judge investigating a death in custody. There follows the maddest, funniest play you’re likely to see in London this summer, and possibly the most political. The script is cleverer than a false police report and Daniel Rigby’s performance is more hilarious than a Chief Constable trying to defend their corrupt officers.
Accidental Death Of An Anarchist was written fifty years ago by Dario Fo as a reaction to a death in police custody in Italy. Sadly it has never stopped being relevant, and with daily headlines about corruption in the Metropolitan Police, it has been crying out for an update.
Step forward Tom Basdon with an adaptation packed with references to recent events, alongside an abundance of timeless jokes. Farce may seem an odd way to expose a rotten constabulary but when, as the play mentions, all the inquiries, and inquiries into inquiries, and inquiries into inquiries into inquiries fail to change anything, the situation becomes so absurd that laughter seems the only response left to vent one’s anger and frustration.
And you can’t not laugh at Daniel Rigby, as his character who has been brought into the station accused of impersonating a psychiatrist wriggles out of that charge with much verbal dexterity, then takes the opportunity to impersonate a judge who’s investigating how a suspect fell out of a window during interrogation, and then a judge pretending to be a forensic investigator (with a wig and false arm, two of many props in his Liberty bag). He pretends to be on the side of the police while tricking them into revealing how corrupt they are. The hapless officers are led into ever more ridiculous explanations about what happened, as they try to cover their arses.
It’s not a long evening but it is packed with more jokes and visual gags than a whole comedy series. As absurdity piles upon absurdity with crazy logicality, Daniel Rigby rattles off his lines faster than a police car on a shout, while also throwing himself about the stage. The pace, as directed by Daniel Raggett, never stops, except for a moment when Mr Rigby gets off a table in comedic slow motion.
You would never pick Daniel Rigby out as a comic. He doesn’t have the face of say Rowan Atkinson or the gangly body of a John Cleese. In fact, the very ordinariness of his appearance in the lineup makes him funnier because what he says and does is all the more unexpected. He has a cheeky grin and his eyes glint with mischief- no wonder he was so successful at playing Eric Morecambe in the TV film Eric and Ernie. He talks in a slightly high voice that always seems to be verging on the hysterical, and his movements are sudden and surprising.
In fact, slapstick and physical comedy feature highly on the charge sheet: characters are punched and soaked in water, Mr Rigby throws files of statements into the air (they are after all just paper). And in a moment I loved, he starts writing on the whiteboard, runs out of space, and continues writing on the wall.
Thrilling and dangerous
Daniel Rigby and company in Accidental Death Of An Anarchist. Photo: Helen Murray
To compound the fun, The Maniac (so-called) says he is an actor, and, of course, he is an actor. The conceit is used to create further anarchy. So he refers to and even speaks to the audience, which the other characters think it is in his mind. He deliberately breaks the fourth wall by throwing his jacket and later sweets into the audience, following the mention of pantomime.
The inventiveness feels as thrilling and dangerous, as hanging out of a window on the fourth floor.
The five other actors are all in effect straight men and a straight woman to Daniel Rigby’s clown. Tony Gardner as the Superintendent has the panicky face of someone who has been promoted beyond their ability, Tom Andrews is a Neanderthal bullying detective, Ro Kumar is a naïve young officer, Ruby Thomas plays a reporter more interested in her image than uncovering the truth. They all have good lines. Mark Hadfield, playing a confused inspector, says at one point: ‘Unconscious bias? I don’t what it is, but I hate it.’
Anna Reid’s set conjures up perfectly the plastic soullessness of a police interrogation room. I liked the way she placed the stage floor at an angle to the proscenium arch, as a further indication of the way the world is knocked out of kilter, not only by The Maniac but by the fact that the people who should uphold the law are breaking it.
Allusions to real events are almost casually thrown in to take you by surprise when you’re in the middle of a belly laugh (‘It’s just bants, like when we take a selfie with a murder victim.’ )
There is a roll call of the names of real victims of Met police corruption near the end, and a statistic is projected onto the set after the curtain call stating that there have been 1862 deaths in British police custody since 1990. Accidental Death of an Anarchist is so shocking that it makes you wonder whether you should have been enjoying yourself quite so much. But this is the kind of defiant laughter that helps us through the worst of situations.
There’s so much madness and mayhem that it’s not surprising the play starts to run out of steam towards the end. Even so, you still feel you’ve had your money’s worth from this evening of non-stop eye-watering laughter.
Accidental Death Of An Anarchist is at the Theatre Royal Haymarket in London until 9 September 2023.
Paul Seven Lewis received a complimentary review ticket.
Joseph Fiennes hits the back of the net as Gareth Southgate
★★★★★
Joseph Fiennes and company in Dear England. Photo: Marc Brenner
You might think if you’re seeing a play about the manager of the England men’s football team, you need to know about football. You don’t. There’s hardly a football in sight. Dear England is the story of a clash of cultures rather than a battle between teams on the pitch. It tells the story of how a self effacing nice guy tries to change the culture of a macho group that is paralysed by fear. In the process it provides us with a lot of comedy, as well as some thoughts about the state of the nation
I know next to nothing about football and that actually helped when I saw Dear England because I was probably more excited for not knowing the outcome of some of the matches than if I’d known what was going to happen. But the thing is, it’s not really about the results. I think we all know England didn’t win the World Cup last year. Or even the Euros the year before. Or it would have been all over the front pages, because one thing we do know is how important England the football team is to a significant part of England the nation. James Graham has built Dear England around the idea that the team is a microcosm of the country. One other footballing event we probably know about is the infamous missed penalty, the one taken by Gareth Southgate back in 1996 that meant England lost to Germany in a Euros semi-final.
It’s a failure that hangs over him throughout this play, because, for some reason, it has come to symbolise the moment when everybody realised there was something rotten at the core of the England team.
That’s where we begin. Rupert Goold’s production takes place sandwiched between the glare of two harsh neon circles, one above and another at stage level, recreating the feel of a stadium but also emphasising the pressure on the players of being in the middle of a pitch and indicating the magnifying glass focus of a nation’s expectations. On the stage floor are a mass of dotted lines and arrows of the kind that show attacking manoeuvres.
On stage are cubicles through which people enter and exit, symbolising perhaps the changes that take place in cubicles but also in a practical way cutting down the immense distance from the actual wings where actors appear and disappear. It is an imaginative and effective use of the Olivier’s large thrust stage by designer Es Devlin and lighting designer Jon Clark.
There’s a quick run through of a succession of England managers, who in amusing cameo impressions have plenty to say about their management style and why they have failed. Until eventually, Gareth Southgate takes over and, in his reticent way, asks why, with some of the world’s best players, they are not a winning team. He concludes it’s all in the mind.
Joseph Fiennes in Dear England. Photo: Marc Brenner
So he calls in a psychologist Pippa Grange. And this is where the fun begins. Well, actually it’s already begun when Mr Southgate (Call me Gareth) first meets his coaching team. Played by Joseph Fiennes, this is not simply an impressionist’s turn, although I’m guessing his mannerisms- the looking down, the pointing when he agrees with somebody, the precise use of language, the slightly nasal tone, the nervous grin, are all reasonably accurate.
What we get in an outstanding performance is a rounded character who admits he doesn’t know everything, who listens, who isn’t confrontational, who doesn’t shout (I have heard of another famous manager’s hairdryer treatment) but who ultimately has a steel resolve. We realise that when he lets players go or when he stands up to racism.
Or when he meets Mike, the assistant he has inherited. I think this character has been invented to represent the antithesis of Gareth. He is a blustering ‘man’s man’, who has no time for losers or psychology and woke thinking. Played hilariously by Paul Thornley, he is red-faced and always on the brink of boiling over. Gareth lets Mike have his rant, and then ignores him.
I think we must assume that Mike and the new senior assistant coach Steve Holland, brought in by Gareth, continue to support the schooling of the players in physical training and tactics elsewhere, while the work on their minds takes place in front of us.
I only saw one football for the whole length of the play. Probably just as well because they are actors. I mean they’re physically fit and go through some balletic movements, thanks to movement directors Ellen Kane and Hannes Langolf, but they wouldn’t have convinced as professional footballers if they’d tried to kick a ball. In fact a feature of Rupert Goold’s direction is constant, feverish movement, heightened by the regularly turning stage.
Together Gareth and Pippa work on moving the team away from being individuals whose loyalty is to their club to a team who know and support one another. And away from people who bottle up their feelings to ones who are open about their emotions. And most importantly, away from a fear of failure to embracing and learning from it (echoing Samuel Beckett’s ‘Fail again. Fail better’).
There is immense enjoyment is in seeing the players gradually change from resistance to embracing the new approach- as well as each other. Near the beginning, Gareth tells his squad that it will be a long haul to victory, like a three act play. You could feel the sigh of relief from the theatre lovers that he was finally talking their language.
Apart from Gareth Southgate and to an extent Pippa Grange, all the other characters are caricatures. It is James Graham’s style in his many plays and TV dramas based on real people to create the truth of a person’s character through humour rather than a nasty or saintly portrait. You may remember his Brexit: The Uncivil War, Tammy Faye, Ink, Best Of Enemies, Quiz or This House. In this play, James Graham can’t resist introducing our recent prime ministers- all trying and failing to score.
So good, so good, so good
I can’t say how accurate the portrayals of the players are but I did end up feeling for them. England captain Harry Kane, as portrayed by Will Close, is barely articulate but seen to inspire the others through his lack of ego and a simple confidence in his ability. Josh Barrow’s goalkeeper Jordan Pickford is gloriously hyperactive. Darragh Hand’s Marcus Rashford stands out as a young man from a deprived background with a bit of a chip on his shoulder who is inspired to become an enthusiastic leader. Adam Hugill is the solid defender and plain speaking Yorkshireman Harry Maguire.
It’s such a good cast that it’s hard not to mention everybody. I must pick out Gunnar Cauthery who gives us terrific impressions of a wisecracking Gary Lineker, a cool Sven-Goran Eriksson, a blustering Boris Johnson and a sanguine Wayne Rooney. And Crystal Condie who does the same for ex-footballer and now commentator Alex Scott and Theresa May.
Gina McKee in Dear England. Photo: Marc Brenner
I haven’t said enough about Gina McKee whose twinkling eyes and turned-up corners of the mouth are like the smile of a tiger, and whose soft northern vowels sugarcoat a hard centre. She made the most of a part that seemed to me slightly superficial, but this may be because Mr Graham didn’t want to distract too much from his main character.
The idea of someone coming to a football club and creating a successful team by getting them in touch with their feelings and believing in themselves may make you think of Ted Lasso. Both shows clearly touch the zeitgeist of the 21st century.
But unlike the Apple TV hit comedy, Dear England explores some big issues. At the beginning, the expectations the nation has of its team reflect the nation’s view of itself. The fans are steeped in a history of England as the birthplace of football, as the winners of the 1966 World Cup, as the home of the finest league football. The team should have success on the world stage by right. If it doesn’t, the frustration leads to riots.
Although this is not explicitly stated, I would be surprised if Mr Graham doesn’t intend a parallel with England the country, which historically once ruled half the world, invented so much, and won World War 2, leading many of its people- at least an older generation- to expect that the country should by rights be a successful world power.
‘Believe in people, care about people, be kind’ is Gareth Southgate’s message to the new generation of England players but it is also a vision of the kind of nation England is in the new century or, at least, can be.
I was caught up in this journey and moved by its outcome, and loved being in a National Theatre audience singing along to Sweet Caroline.
Dear England can be seen at the National Theatre in London until 11 August 2023.
Tim Minchin’s Groundhog Day musical is worth watching again and again
★★★★★
Tanisha Spring and Andy Karl in Groundhog Day. Photo: Manuel Harlan
I hesitate to say this, because it’s been a few years since I saw the movie Groundhog Day, but Tim Minchin‘s stage musical version at the Old Vic in London may be funnier and deeper than the original.
The story is essentially the same. In fact Danny Rubin who wrote the film screenplay has written this musical’s book . So, once again, a cynical, egocentric TV weatherman Phil Connors is fated to repeat the same day until he redeems himself. The day in question is Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney, an annual event when a large rodent predicts the end of winter.
There is some rewriting but the added value is Tim Minchin‘s smart music. Apart from boasting some amusing lyrics, the songs add more emotional depth to the main protagonist. In addition, the character of Phil’s producer Rita is expanded to ramp up the romantic element. In fact, post ‘me too’, women generally are given a more important role in this musical version, with critical attention paid to Phil’s initially appallingly sexism.
The song Playing Nancy that opens Act Two is a case in point. Nancy, nicely played by Eve Norris, has been presented earlier as simply a shapely body that Phil lusts after. Now the woman laments: ‘I wasn’t quite aware that / I was put here to be stared at’, and asks: ‘Who am I to dream of something better?’
The aspiration to be better provides the thrust of the show. As Phil asks early on: ‘What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?’ In some ways, it’s a simple idea, that it’s never too late to be a better person because each day is the first day of the rest of your life. The message may be wrapped up in glorious comedy but it is profound enough to occur in different forms in Nietsche, Aristotle and Buddhism, as the excellent theatre programme reminds us.
Andy Karl is perfect
So we see Phil go through the steps to redemption, travelling from his initial bemusement, to shock at what seems like a nightmare, to the power going to his head, to suicidal despair, to a growing understanding that the only way to be truly happy is to help others, his redemption completed when he learns humility. Andy Karl is perfect in the role. He can sing and moves well, but the joy of his performance is in his physical appearance: an expressive face that changes from handsome TV star with a fake smile to panic to glee to desperation, and he has an athletic, flexible body that can puff out, deflate, leap, and fall. Bill Murray, the star of the film, was brilliant as a curmudgeonly weatherman but the complexity Andy Kay and the musical bring to Phil Connors takes the character to a whole new level.
Possibly the most memorable scene is when Phil becomes suicidal. As happens throughout the musical, the day opens with him in bed in his small hotel room. One suicide after another sends him off stage in one direction, only for him to reappear instantly waking up in bed. It’s the sort of trick you see in a film and think little of it but done live on stage, it takes you back to when you first fell in love with the magic of theatre. Credit to Paul Kieve for this and other illusions.
Andy Karl and the company in Groundhog Day. Photo: Manuel Harlan
The set by Rob Howell is a wonder. Scenes of the groundhog ceremony, a diner, a street, and more, switch smoothly from one to the other while consistently returning to the centrepiece of the tiny bedroom. At one point a bar converts to a truck; and there’s also inventive use of model cars and houses to illustrate not only a car chase but a bigger view of the small town.
The nature of the story means that other characters don’t really develop but we do get to know them, and, by Phil’s actions, they do change as they too improve their lives. Take for example Debbie, played by Kamilla Fernandes, who discovers her voice and hits us with a powerful rock’n’roll song.
Tanisha Spring is terrific as Rita Hanson, a sweet, innocent woman who gradually reveals more about her insecure self and her ambitions, and provides the moral example Phil needs. The musical has a lot to say about time: we may all have felt regret at wasting it, or wishing we could have it over again to do things differently, or dreaming of the future while not living in the present. Ms Spring leads two of the best songs about this: she kicks off One Day which becomes an ensemble climax to Act One (Sample line: ‘One day, some day, my prince will come / But I won’t hold my breath / There’s only divorcees and weirdos left’), and an outstanding second act duet with Andy Karl, If I Had My Time Again which includes the line ‘I’d take the path less trodden / avoid the crap I trod in’.
As well as enjoying the wonder and the laughter again, another reason for seeing Groundhog Day repeatedly is to catch more of Tim Minchin‘s clever lyrics.
Matthew Warchus directs the whole imaginative spectacle with imagination and verve. If this production doesn’t end up with a long run in the West End (and it should), it would make a great alternative to the Old Vic’s annual Groundhog Day-like repeat of A Christmas Carol.
Groundhog Day The Musical can be seen at The Old Vic in London until 19 August 2023.
Sam Underwood and Natalie Dunne in The Third Man. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Theatre has become something of a vampire in recent years, roaming the dark auditoria of cinemas searching for films to turn into musicals. Sunset Boulevard is being revived; Groundhog Day is at the Old Vic; a version of Brokeback Mountain with music can be seen at Sohoplace; 42nd Street, The Wizard Of Oz, Sunset Boulevard and Grease are all back this year; Mrs Doubtfire is on the way and of course Back To The Future, Moulin Rouge and The Lion King are already racking up long runs. Even so, one film I never expected to be adapted as a stage musical is The Third Man. Yet here it is at London’s Menier Chocolate Factory – and it’s a triumph.
I have a slight reservation about one aspect of the adaptation of The Third Man, which I’ll come to, but it’s far outweighed by the thrilling pace and the rollercoaster emotions it evokes. Wisely it sticks closely to Graham Greene’s original mystery story of love and betrayal with its reluctant hero, its twists and turns, and its shocks. I’ll try not to give too much away because you may not have seen Carol Reed‘s classic black-and-white film from 1949.
The creative team of Christopher Hampton, Don Black, George Fenton and Trevor Nunn are all as old or older than the film. Their new musical version is a distillation of all their talent and experience.
Let’s start with the music written by George Fenton. Among the hundred plus films and TV series for which he has written the score are Gandhi, You’ve Got Mail, The Jewel In The Crown and David Attenborough’s Planet series. Appropriate to a serious story, it leans towards the drama of Claude-Michel Schoenberg‘s music for Les Miserables or the starkness of Kurt Weill’s TheThreepenny Opera.
Mr Fenton is a brave man to tackle The Third Man because the film’s theme is one of the most famous ever written. In this musical version, he pays brief homage to the jangling zither-based hit but goes for a score that suggests danger, passion and anger. Played by a live nine piece orchestra, directed by Tamara Saringer, the songs enhance the story and reveal character, as they should in a good musical.
The legendary Don Black and Christopher Hampton, provide the tight book and sharp lyrics. There are even a couple of duets that Rodgers and Hammerstein would have been proud of.
The story is about a pulp fiction writer called Holly Martins, who arrives in Vienna at the end of World War 2, when it is occupied by the American, British and Russian soldiers. He’s there to do some work for an old school friend Harry Lime, only to find he has died in an accident. As the first act progresses, he becomes increasingly suspicious about the circumstances surrounding his death. The British military police meanwhile indicate to him that Lime was a bad lot.
The first act ends with an astonishing discovery and the show continues with even more shocking revelations and heightened drama.
Where the musical really stands out is in the feelings expressed by Holly and also by Lime’s lover Anna. Both loved Harry and can’t believe he would have been involved in anything truly bad. As the pair investigate Harry’s death, Holly falls in love with Anna and pursues her with reckless, puppy-like devotion, a sentiment she does not return.
Sam Underwood is a fine singer and actor who communicates sadness, frustration and infatuation as he searches for the truth and wrestles with his conscience. With his naïve, boyish determination, Holly could be a hero from one of his adventure novels
Natalie Dunne is strong as Anna. By dwelling on her character more than is the case in the film, the musical is able to show her in a nightclub singing songs that could have come out of The Threepenny Opera or indeed Cabaret, songs both sad and amusing- and indicative of her free-thinking character. And because we get to know her, the subplot of the triangle between Holly, Anna and Harry carries more weight.
Simon Bailey also impresses as a callous villain who commands devotion. And that’s my reservation about the adaptation: he is portrayed as more obviously nasty and not as full of fake charm as this key character was in the film.
The Third Man at The Menier. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Edward Baker-Duly and Jonathan Andrew Hume strike just the right note as righteous but ruthless military policemen Major Calloway and Sergeant Paine. Other characters are more in the way of caricatures but they are well acted- it’s a pleasure to see Derek Griffiths as The Porter. Rachel Izen is his wife, and Gary Milner, Alan Vicary, and Harry Morrison are Lime’s shady associates.
The design by Paul Farnsworth is full of atmosphere. The costumes in grey or other subdued colours add to the film noir effect. Rubble litters the edges of the stage floor, a dark alley or tunnel goes off to the side: You feel you are in a sinister city ravaged by war.
The Menier has been reconfigured so the audience is on three sides. Actors run up and down aisles, ramping up the excitement, and, thank goodness, the sight lines are kept free from obstruction. The simplest of furniture is enough to suggest effectively a hotel lounge, backstage at the nightclub, a flat, and even a ferris wheel gondola.
Getting us off to the best of starts is the opening scene where Holly wanders the dimly lit streets of Vienna at night, helped by dark expressionist lighting from Emma Chapman, and is surrounded by people begging. Straightaway we know we are in desperate times.
It’s a masterpiece of direction by Trevor Nunn, who brings so much that he has learned and practised in a long career that encompasses Les Miserables, Cats and the National Theatre production of Oklahoma! He constantly holds our attention, with a changing pace that switches from frenetic activity to tense conversation.
I must credit to Christopher Hampton whose previous plays and translations include Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Art, Sunset Boulevard and Florian Zeller’s The Father. I thought a musical adaptation of The Third Man couldn’t be done, but he and his team have done it.
Gay love story throws in romance, heartbreak, and the kitchen sink
Mike Faist and Lucas Hedges in Brokeback Mountain
Brokeback Mountain is the heartbreaking story of a forbidden love that lasts a lifetime. And the stage version by Ashley Robinson, based on the original short story by Annie Proulx, is excellent at conveying both its romance and its anguish. Unfortunately, it has also ended my love affair with Sohoplace Theatre.
My disappointment wasn’t with the play itself or the acting or the songs . It was with the production. As you may know from my enthusiastic reviews of Medea and Marvellous, Sohoplace is a theatre in the round, but it seemed like this production had been designed for a studio theatre but had had to settle for Sohoplace while still being in denial that the audience is on all four sides there.
When you perform a show in the round, you need to keep at least one actor facing the audience as much as possible but the unquestionably talented director Jonathan Butterell – he directed Everybody’s Talking About Jamie– took some strange decisions.
For example, the two main protagonists regularly huddle in one corner of the stage by a camp fire with their back to two thirds of the audience. A tent, blocks some sight lines for a while. The production even throws in a kitchen sink. The latter rises from the floor on one side of the stage for a number of domestic scenes and blocks the view for those of us on that side (Stalls row A low numbers). One of my friends who was at the performance said he felt he’d seen a good play about plumbing. And I still don’t know who Ennis’ wife Alma remarried.
View of the stage from the front row of the stalls
Then again, I had a great view of the pained looks passing between Ennis and Alma as they stood at the sink, which three-quarters of the audience must have missed. Tom Pye is the brilliant award-winning designer of My Neighbour Totoro but, on this occasion, his set seemed to ignore the needs of an in-the-round production.
I can’t say who in particular was responsible but I do feel somebody should have looked at this production from all angles and pointed out the restricted views. That’s assuming the producers care whether people who’ve paid good money to see the show can actually see the show. (And, yes, I did buy my ticket.)
Well-crafted, superbly acted
You will almost certainly be familiar with the story, thanks to the film. Two cowboys Jack and Ennis are assigned the job of looking after a flock of sheep on a remote mountain. They gradually get to know and like one another until one cold night, they huddle together in a tent, and desire takes over. Nothing untoward about that except this is Wyoming in 1963, a time and place where Homosexuality is not only illegal but liable to get you killed.
This explains why neither admits their homosexuality until their bodies touch. Here and now, gay love stories are commonplace but even today a gay man will have come across prejudice and threats, and it’s a timely moment to be reminded of the effect of homophobia, given the rise in legal discrimination against homosexuality in some US states, and the introduction of the death penalty in Uganda for what the law calls ‘aggravated homosexuality’.
Although Jack suggests they could live together, Ennis holds back, trying to maintain a sham marriage, but lives for occasional meetings with Jack in remote places. I’m assuming you’ve seen the film or read the story so I can say Jack takes more risks than Ennis and with disastrous consequences. Ashley Robinson tells their story with a deep understanding and a superb ear for dialogue. It’s hard to believe this is his theatrical debut.
The two handsome American actors wear their parts like gloves. I felt their love and their pain.
Mike Faist with crooked good looks and ready smile is the reckless extrovert Jack. Lucas Hedges is the nervous, taciturn Ennis. They are totally believable as an affectionate couple: I remember a head resting casually on a chest that caught perfectly the comfort lovers experience in each other’s company.
Emily Fairn was convincing as Ennis’s bemused and badly done by wife, another victim of the situation who is by turns sad, understanding and angry.
I wasn’t sure about the presence of an older Ennis. He does appear in the prologue to the short story, to kick it off as it were, but I was puzzled by his continuing appearances on stage, without giving any commentary. It may have been a way of making clear that Ennis had never come out, so his only love was Jack, but, in practice, like the sink, he just got in the way.
There was a kind of commentary in Dan Gillespie Sells’ songs. You may know his work with The Feeling or his music for Everybody’s Talking About Jamie. Here he echoes American country and western music, with songs that are plaintive and full of deep emotion. Providing a moving counterpoint to the onstage action, they are beautifully performed by Eddi Reader and the slightly off stage band (at least they didn’t get in the way!).
Brokeback Mountain is a well-crafted, superbly acted play. I would love to have seen more of it.
Brokeback Mountain runs at sohoplace until 12 August 2023.
Assassins looks and sounds great but misses its target
★★★
Danny Mac in Assassins.Photo: Johan Persson
Chichester Festival Theatre’s reputation as musicals producer is second to none but its latest revival is, for me, a rare mis-step.
Stephen Sondheim’s Assassins may not rank as one of his greatest works, but its reputation has grown since its premiere in 1990. The bleak musical comedy, with book by John Weidman, shows how the American Dream- that anyone can be a success- has become a nightmare. Its bleak view is that celebrity has become a replacement for real achievement, and that one particular short cut to fame is assassinating a President.
A string of would be assassins follows the precedent set by John Wilkes Booth, who shot Abraham Lincoln, and leads ultimately to the traumatic loss of John Kennedy at the hands of Lee Harvey Oswald. However, we gain little understanding of the individuals beyond their desire for fame for themselves or their cause (if they have one).
There is a lot to enjoy along the journey. There are songs for a start, which are mainly pastiches of various kinds of popular American music. They may not be Sondheim’s finest tunes but the use of popular music styles to talk about murder is horrifying. There’s the jaunty anthem Everybody’s Got The Right, the right to their dream that is, that bookends the show; and Gun Song, a romantic love song to a killing weapon; and Something Just Broke, a hauntingly sad reaction to the death of Kennedy.
The show originally used the device of a fairground shooting gallery in which contestants are given a gun and invited to take a shot at a President for the prize of fame if they succeed. It’s a metaphor that serves well the concept of the randomness of celebrity. As each takes his or her shot, they sink into oblivion, forming a disappointed community until together they encourage Oswald to commit a presidential assassination that shocked the world.
So where did the Chichester production go wrong?
Not with the performers, who are excellent. The characters they play do not have much depth, but are nevertheless given performances both vivid and amusing. Peter Forbes is suitably authoritative and sinister as The Proprietor or host; Danny Mac, with a strong singing voice, is the handsome and manipulative John Wilkes Booth, who you can believe would inspire the others; Harry Hepple is outstanding as the easy-going Charles Guiteau, who killed President Garfield because he believed he should have been made French ambassador; Sam Oladeinde shines as Leon Czolgosz, the shy, angry killer of President McKinley; Nick Holder as Samuel Byck wanders around the auditorium in a soiled Santa Claus outfit ranting about President Nixon (and Leonard Bernstein, for that matter) in a funny but frightening performance; Amy Booth-Steel is Sarah Jane Moore, the would be assassin of President Ford whose inability to shoot straight gains the most laughs; and Samuel Thomas is a chilling Lee Harvey Oswald, a man so feeble in his resolve as to make you squirm in your seat at the arbitrary nature of Kennedy’s death.
Why improve the perfect musical?
For me, the problem with the production was the way director Polly Findlay updated the concept to cover the modern cult of celebrity, starting with a reference to the recent celebrity President, Donald Trump. So, the on-stage band wear red baseball caps, and, as the audience enter, there are actors in animal mascot costumes encouraging Mexican waves.
The host looks very like Mr Trump. But why is the President handing out the guns? Trump may have encouraged the storming of the Capitol building, but this updating means you straightaway lose the distinction between people who achieve their dream of celebrity through assassinating a President and the Presidents themselves, who achieved their fame through a political and fairly democratic process.
Assassins at Chichester Festival Theatre. Photo: Johan Persson
In support of this change of emphasis, Lizzie Clachan’s wonderful set places the Oval Office rather than a fairground in the centre. Giant video screens on either side show the choice of targets, turning the original shooting gallery concept into a game show, suggesting the way TV turns nonentities into household names. Three TV news reporters replace the single Balladeer to provide the commentary. They hold their mics like guns, perhaps indicating the media’s contribution to the cult of celebrity killers. It’s certainly a long way from the fairground. This is all the more surprising since Stephen Sondheim once said he couldn’t think how to improve Assassins.
This is a musical that takes a superficial meander through various would-be Presidential assassins. It’s loosely held together by a concept that they are a corruption of the American Dream. Its fabric is too delicate to accommodate the tacking on of references to modern day celebrity. The Watermill Theatre production of 2019 didn’t stray from the fairground concept until the death of Kennedy, and was, in my opinion, the better for that single focus.
That quibble aside, Assassins is a musical worth reviving and Chichester Festival Theatre has come up with a fabulous looking production with superb performances.
Assassins can be seen at Chichester Festival Theatre until 24 June 2023.
Paul received a complimentary review ticket from the theatre.
Must-see new play by Ryan Calais Cameron with rising star Ivanno Jeremiah
★★★★★
Ivanno Jeremiah in Retrograde. Photo: Marc Brenner
Retrograde, receiving its premiere at the Kiln Theatre in Kilburn London, is a tense, passionate play about racism and censorship, featuring a dynamite performance from rising star Ivanno Jeremiah. It is written by Ryan Calais Cameron, who recently achieved a West End hit with For Black Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When The Hue Gets Too Heavy. Thank goodness his new play has a shorter title!
Set in 1955, Retrograde describes Sidney Poitier’s early days in the film industry when he came up against racism and the so-called Hollywood blacklist which aimed to ‘cancel’, as we might say today, anyone with so-called anti-American views.
Sidney Poitier was a fabulous actor at a time when segregation was still legal and black performers were largely playing servants. We find him on the verge of getting a leading role. His experience could be that of anyone finds their career threatened because they want to exercise their right to free speech, or indeed anyone who has been asked to compromise their integrity for the sake of a job.
How, as an actor, do you play one of the greatest actors of all time, especially one with the added value of charisma? The challenge for Ivanno Jeremiah is made even greater because the play begins with a young writer Bobby and a long-established Hollywood lawyer Mr Parks discussing Sidney Poitier’s great qualities, thus building up the anticipation. Add to which, Mr Jeremiah looks nothing like Mr Poitier.
It doesn’t matter. He makes us believe he is Sidney Poitier. When he enters, there is the kind of still centre, the confidence, the relaxed style, the impeccable American English that he learnt to disguise his Caribbean accent, all of which were such a part of Poitier’s appeal. When he’s on the stage it’s hard to look anywhere else, excellent as the other two actors are.
This is a play about the racist treatment he received, the torment of having to make a decision between his principles and fame and fortune in the film industry. As it becomes clear to Sidney that he isn’t there simply to sign a contract that recognises his talent, Mr Jeremiah’s startled eyes and slumping body portray confusion, nervousness, vulnerability, and even panic. It’s a monumental performance that marks Ivanno Jeremiah out as one of the great actors of his generation.
But even the greatest actors need words put in their mouths. Writer Ryan Calais Cameron has intentionally evoked those great scripts from the golden age of Hollywood. The play sparks with fast rhythmic exchanges, verbal dexterity and passion.
There is also a great deal of humour, lots of it bouncing around Mr Parks, although this tails off as the seriousness of the situation grows. When Bobby asks Mr Parks: ‘What do you think of me, be honest’, Parks replies: ‘I never think of you’. Here’s another Parksism: ‘If your phone doesn’t ring, it’s me.’ My favourite funny line was said about him: ‘Your ass must be pretty jealous of your mouth with all the shit that’s coming out if it.’
Mr Cameron builds the tension as if stretching a rubber band until you feel it must break. If there is a fault in the play, it would only be that it is prolonged a little too much at the end, as we wait for Sidney’s decision, although this is redeemed by a couple of powerful polemic speeches from him.
There is also a conflict between the other characters, who represent two kinds of white people of that time- and probably modern times. Bobby is a writer and Sidney’s close friend. Played by Ian Bonar, he represents the white liberal who believes in equality and is anti-racism, but hasn’t himself been the victim of racism. His early statement ‘I’d jump a bullet for that guy’ proves wanting when tested against threats from Daniel Lapaine’s frightening Mr Parks.
He’s there to oversee Sidney’s signing of the contract to play the lead role in Bobby’s TV movie. But he wants more. The studios, and as it turns out other powerful forces, want Sidney, as a tame black star. So he is required to sign an oath of loyalty to the United States and to denounce Paul Robeson, at that the highest profile black actor and an activist in anti-racism and pro-communism campaigns.
To give you some context, at this time many Americans were frightened of both communism and of the rise to power of black people. Hollywood had become the focus of these fears and many actors, writers and directors were blacklisted. This meant they were prevented from working, because they were communists, or simply insisted on their right not to talk.
And if it seems incredible to us today that this could happen in the USA, a country in which the first amendment to the constitution protects freedom of speech, and in which being a member of the communist party wasn’t actually illegal, I suppose we ought to ask how many people today, and maybe still black people in particular, are being careful about what they say for fear of offending the left or the right or some other powerful group and thereby not getting work in the creative industries. I may be wrong but I imagine the play is called Retrograde because Mr Cameron thinks we’re taking steps backward at the moment.
Mr Parks represents fascism, with its denial of facts, its bullying, its call to patriotism and its identification of those that disagree as enemies of the state. Mr Cameron makes little attempt at subtlety but that doesn’t stop Mr Parks’ words and his shark-like smile sending a chill down your spine.
Ivannop Jeremiah, Ian Bonar and Daniel Lapaine in Retrograde. Photo: Marc Brenner
Director Amit Sharma does a great job at maintaining the tension through what is one real-time 90-minute scene. I am guessing that Mr Sharma is responsible for the way clothes and furniture play an important part in the production. All three men wear hats, jackets and ties, as was the fashion then, although Sidney’s clothes are much brighter than the others’ plain suits. Early on, Mr Parks bullies Sidney into taking off his tie, thus establishing superiority over him, just as he forces whisky on him. At various points, the level of tenseness is reflected by hats and jackets being taken off or put on.
The set is a naturalistic, convincingly 1950s office, designed by Frankie Bradshaw, whose imaginative versality and eye for detail have been responsible for Blues For An Alabama Sky at the National, her award-winning Donmar and West End production of Sweat, and Kiss Me Kate in the cramped confines of The Watermill. The creation of two areas, one of comfortable chairs, the other a desk and more formal seats, allows for continuous movement around the stage. Placing the rectangular platform on which the set is built at an angle to the stage floor, adds to the taut situation.
To sum up: an unforgettable performance by Ivanno Jeremiah in an electrifying play by Ryan Calais Cameron. It thoroughly deserves a West End transfer.
Finally , a quick word about The Kiln. I’d never been there before, not even when it was called the Tricycle. It’s a theatre for the local community in Kilburn, and what a lucky community they are, because it has been the launch pad for many new plays, including, in its early days, Return To The Forbidden Planet, and more recently Moira Buffini’s Handbagged and Florian Zeller’s The Father. You can easily get to it via the Jubilee tube line and it’s a welcoming, comfortable place to see a show.
Retrograde can be seen at the Kiln until 27 May 2023.
Paul paid for his ticket
Dom Hodson, John Hopkins, Ashh Blackwood, Serena Manteghi and Rachel Summers in Bleak Expectations. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Whether or not you’ve read any Dickens or heard the BBC Radio 4 comedy Bleak Expectations, you’ll find plenty to keep you amused in this send-up of Dickens’ novels and of Victorian values.
If you’re not familiar with the show, the nearest comparison I can give you is probably Blackadder. Mark Evans is a talented comedy writer who shares that series’ love of outlandish similes, anachronisms and silly names. He peppers the play with them, although he could have been more liberal with this seasoning because what he has cooked up doesn’t quite provide the feast of laughter you might hope for.
The jokes offer the best of times: ‘it was as if a giant teapot had poured sorrow upon the household and no one had said when’ (or something like that). Or the twisting of famous Dickens phrases, as when in response to awful food: ‘Please, Sir, may I have some less.’
There is a familiar mocking of Victorian society that you will recognise from pretty much every Victorian parody. We love to laugh at its patronising attitude to women, its prudery, and its toxic masculinity, as if contemporary society has wiped these things out. The play might be stronger if it had a message relevant to today, and some character development.
One difference from the radio show is, of course, visual humour. It may have lost the power of the imagination that the outlandish verbal descriptions evoke but the show takes full advantage of the opportunity to introduce a great deal of physical comedy: slapstick, gurning expressions, fighting (a duel between sword and a baguette is particularly funny), lots of falling over, and a French farce amount of going in and out of doors.
Caroline Leslie’s slick direction ensures the visual element never flags. Katie Lias’ set, as well as being suitably Dickensian, incorporates countless doors through which the farce can flourish.
The evening greatly benefits from having a celebrity guest playing Pip, the narrator who tells us the story of his life. He is the author of many semi-autobiographical novels bearing a similarity to the works of Dickens- such as ‘Massive Dorrit’. Each guest is engaged for a week and you can look at the schedule to choose whom you would like to see. Our storyteller was Sally Phillips. Complete with false moustache, deadpan delivery, knowing eyes, and the air of someone who would rather not be there, she provides one of the highlights of the show.
The cast are excellent as they take Pip and his cohort through numerous trials and tribulations inspired by Mr Dickens, from tragic childhood to horrific boarding school, to having his fortune stolen in a court case, to constantly losing people he loves.
Dom Hodson makes a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed hero, J. J. Henry is his warm but dim friend Harry, Serena Manteghi plays his plucky sister Pippa, Rachel Summers is a young woman dripping with sexual frustration, Shane David-Joseph and Ashh Blackwood bounce around in many roles. John Hopkins is an excellent pantomime villain while Marc Pickering made the most of the opportunity to play multiple members of the nasty Hardthrasher family, rolling his eyes and hamming it up for all he was worth.
Bleak Expectations is great fun when concentrated into a half hour episode, but when spread over two hours, it begins to seem like a lot of variations of the same few jokes. Like a Victorian railway train, the play chugs nicely down the track at first, but the novelty doesn’t last and, by the end, it runs out of steam.
I found I had enjoyed my evening but I was not thinking: ‘Please, sir, may I have some more?’
Bleak Expectations, originally produced at The Watermill Newbury, can be seen at The Criterion Theatre until 3 September 2023.
