Category: London Productions

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Accidental Death of an Anarchist- Review

Daniel Rigby stars in the funniest play in London (probably)

★★★★

Two actors hold on to athird actor who appears to be about to throw himslef out of a window in a scene from Accidental Death Of An Anarchist at the Theatre Royal Haymarket June 2023
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.
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Dear England – National Theatre – Review

Joseph Fiennes hits the back of the net as Gareth Southgate

★★★★★

Joseph Fiennes playing Gareth Southgate in front of actors playing footballers in the National Theatre production of Dear England in June 2023
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.

Paul received a complimentary review ticket.

Click here to watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre.Reviews With Paul Seven

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Groundhog Day – Old Vic – review

Tim Minchin’s Groundhog Day musical is worth watching again and again


★★★★★

Two actors Tanisha Spring and AndyKarl raises glasses in a bar in a scene from the stage musical Groundhog Day at The Old Vic in London June 2023
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.

Paul was given a complimentary review ticket.

Click here to watch this review of Groundhog Day on our YouTube channel

 

 

 

 

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The Third Man at The Menier – review

A musical thriller from a stellar team

★★★★

Scene from The Third Man at The Menier in June 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 The Threepenny 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.

The Third Man is performing at The Menier Chocolate Factory until 9 September 2023.

Paul paid for his ticket to see the final preview performance.

Watch this review of The Third Man at The Menier on YouTube

 

 

 

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Brokeback Mountain- romance and the kitchen sink

Gay love story throws in romance, heartbreak, and the kitchen sink

Actors Mike Faist plays a harmonica while he and Lucas Hedges crouch round a camp fire in the stage production of Brokeback Mountain at sohoplace theatre in London in June 2023
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.
Paul Seven Lewis paid for his ticket
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Bleak Expectations – Criterion Theatre – review

Plenty of fun but not enough steam

★★★

Th cast of Bleak Expectations at The Criterion Theatre in London May 2023
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.
Paul received a press ticket from the producer.
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Dancing at Lughnasa – National Theatre -review

Derry Girls fill the Olivier stage with their grand performances


★★★★

Actors dancing on stage in a production of Dancing At Lughnasa at the National Theatre London in April 2023
Blaithin Mac Gabhann, Alison Oliver, Louisa Harland and Siobhan McSweeney in Dancing at Lughnasa. Photo: Johan Persson

Brian Friel‘s Dancing at Lughnasa has come to be regarded as a modern masterpiece. The National Theatre first staged it straight after its 1990 Dublin premiere. Now this intimate play is back there on the huge Olivier stage in a new production directed by Josie Rourke.

Siobhan McSweeney and Louisa Harland from Derry Girls play two of five unmarried sisters approaching middle age whose life is suddenly upended in 1936. The story seemed relevant to 1990, but does it still seem like a masterpiece 30 years on?

Dancing at Lughnasa is a multi layered play which is part of the reason it’s so riveting to watch. For a start, it’s a memory play, which in this case means that a narrator tells us at the beginning and at points during the evening that what are witnessing is from his memory, mainly from when he was seven years old. So straightaway, the play raises questions about the reliability of memory but also about the nature of writing itself. Did all that happens really occur in the space of a couple of months, or is it memory (or the writer) rearranging them for the sake of a more dramatic narrative?

This leads us to think about what is true- whether facts are truth or whether fiction tells us a greater truth about life. Ostensibly a play about five unmarried sisters, it is about human relationships universally: what holds them together, what may drive them apart. And those same questions apply to much larger communities.

Running through the play is the eternal battle between body and mind, id and ego. Lughnasa is an annual Irish harvest festival dating back to pre-Christian times, taking place at the beginning of August. It’s a time of all kinds of celebratory activities dedicated to pagan gods: walking up hills, picking wild bilberries, and, yes, dancing. So, while it was appropriated by the Catholic Church, in essence it opposes the asceticism of Christianity, and encourages physical release.

All this aside, its core is a funny and sad description of the lives of a family under pressure. The five sisters, who for one reason or another, are unmarried and live together, without parents, in poverty. They are moving into middle age realising they are too old to find a husband or indeed to dance. They still dream of doing both at the Lughnasa festival.

They rely almost entirely on the income from the oldest, Kate, who is a teacher. Kate is straightlaced and sees it as her job, to be a quasi-mother. Although she tries to hold firm to her Christian principles, the cracks in this façade constantly show. Played by Justine Mitchell, we feel the tension of her trying to hold herself aloof but constantly bewildered and tempted by her wilder sisters. And she shows her joy when she lets herself go.

Maggie is the heart of the home. She cooks and plays, she also has the clearest vision, realising what feelings are being suppressed, and able to defuse tense situations with a joke or a song. Siobhan McSweeney, whom many will recognise from the TV series Derry Girls, is tremendous in this complex role. Just to spend the whole evening watching her eyes, sizing up situations and wondering how best to respond, would be a masterclass in acting.

Agnes and Rose provide the household with some additional income by making gloves. Agnes, played by another Derry Girls alumna Louisa Harland, is quiet; Rose, played with sensitivity by Blaithin Mac Gabhan, has a learning disability. The others recognise her vulnerability and the need to protect her, at which they are not always successful.

The youngest sister Chris is the unmarried mother of Michael who, as an adult, is our narrator. Alison Oliver gives her a brittle naivety, particularly remarkable is the way she comes to life when she sees her child’s father.

The power of dance

We are told by the narrator, played by Tom Vaughan-Lawlor in flat, almost neutral terms, what is going to happen, and, at the end, what happened after the family broke up. This makes watching the play is akin to watching a car crash in slow motion.

Tom Vaughan-Lawler in Dancing at Lughnasa. Photo: Johan Persson

Director Josie Rourke deserves every award going for the way she has brought this production together. I’ve already indicated that the casting is perfect., but there is also the challenge of presenting an intimate play on the enormous Olivier stage. Her designer Robert Jones achieves this by creating a circle that follows the arc of the edge of the thrust stage. Within that is placed a really quite small platform representing the main living area of the house, thus retaining the play’s intimacy. In front of this room is a yard or play area, a space mainly occupied by the child Michael (whom we never actually see, as everything is seen by him). Behind, a hill rises, (a metaphor perhaps for this family being at the bottom in society, but also a nod to the hill climbing that is part of Lughnasa rituals). At the top is ripe corn ready to harvest and at the back what look like hanging string or chain curtains onto which are projected images of the sky but which also seem to trap the people below.

In Josie Rourke‘s precise direction of the cast around the tight living area, you can literally see how close the sisters are physically as well as emotionally. when they trek away from the house, you feel the separation.

So what are the disruptive events that destroy this family? Firstly, there is the arrival of two men, both in their different ways damaging the reputation of the family. They are caricatures compared with the sisters but this can be interpreted as being Michael’s memory of them. It does have the effect of making them very amusing.

The sisters’ older brother Jack returns from missionary work in Africa, mentally confused at first, but eventually revealing his change from Catholic priest to believer in paganism. It’s an hilarious performance from Ardal O’Hanlan, as he talks almost in a stream of consciousness, oblivious to the effect on others of the shocking things he is saying. One of the funniest moments is when he keeps unconsciously grabbing a sheet his sisters are attempting to fold, symbolising his disruption of their ordered world. His rejection of Catholicism seems to be the reason Kate loses her teaching job, and the family her income.

Michael’s father, a feckless charmer called Gerry, also turns up. Something of a man-child, he appropriately spends most of his visits in the garden, making many promises he cannot keep before disappearing again. Having tried and failed at many jobs, he has decided to join the International Brigade, who are fighting for democracy against the catholic church-supported dictator Franco. Played by Tom Riley, he is a likeable character, and he loves dancing. Dancing seems to be the thing that still unites him and Chris. And dancing is in the title of the play for a reason.

Which brings me to the third disrupter: the new wireless set. It is not news from the outside world that changes their lives, but music, because hearing music inspires them to dance.

As the narrator tells us: ‘Dancing as if language had surrendered to movement- as if this ritual, this wordless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness.’

Two of the best scenes in this production are once when Irish music plays on the radio and, slowly but then with increasing pace, the sisters start to dance, even eventually Kate, until they are frenetically jigging round the tiny kitchen, jumping and high kicking with abandon. It’s a glorious moment, thanks to the women of the cast and choreographer Wayne McGregor. Then, later in the play, when Anything Goes is playing on the wireless, two of the characters combine in an erotic dance that reveals their feelings, and changes relationships forever.

Then there is the glove factory that opens- the industrial revolution has finally arrived in their small corner of Ireland- and it puts Aggie and Rose out of work.

So this small community is a microcosm of what happened to Western society as a whole, as seen from the end of the 20th century. The family dynamics at the centre of Dancing at Lughnasa remain fascinating and totally believable, and the dialogue is still a joy. But, nearly a quarter way through the 21st century,  we have moved on. Now we are grappling with the changes wrought by digital technology which in very different ways is revolutionising our society and the way we relate to one another. Consequently, the play’s nostalgia isn’t what it used to be, and it no longer packs quite the punch it once did.

Nevertheless, a great production of a still brilliant piece of writing.

Dancing at Lughnasa can be seen at the National Theatre until 27 May 2023

Paul received a complimentary review ticket from the theatre

3 May 2023: I might have added when talking about Siobhan McSweeney’s acting skills that all the sisters use their eyes to great effect.

Click here to watch this review on YouTube

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Guys And Dolls – Bridge Theatre – review

Daniel Mays & Marisha Wallace lead an extraordinary theatrical experience


★★★★★

The cast of Guys And Dolls at the Bridge Theatre London dance on stage
Guys And Dolls at the Bridge Theatre. Photo: Manuel Harlan

From the moment you walk into the auditorium at the Bridge Theatre and see the in-the-round arrangement, with half the audience milling about on the stage floor, neon lights hanging above them, you know this production of Guys And Dolls is going to be something special.

If you’re not familiar with Guys And Dolls, you might wonder what makes it for many people including myself the greatest musical. Of course, there are other candidates but it’s hard to find another that offers quite such riches. Thanks to Abe Burrows, and the source material by Damon Runyon, it has a clever, fast moving, romantic plot with witty, captivating dialogue. This is integrated with a packed score of classic songs by Frank Loesser from solos to duets to trios to ensembles, that set the mood, carry the story forward, and bring out all the complexities of the characters.

Until now, Richard Eyre‘s legendary National Theatre production of 1982 (for those of us that saw it) is probably the one every other production is judged by, but the Bridge Theatre‘s Nicholas Hytner has produced a rival.

The overture begins, the neon signs fly upwards, and risers appear out of the floor. Designer Bunny Christie has choreographed the rise and fall of numerous platforms across the whole of the stage area as beautifully as Arlene Phillips has the dancing. Working in the round is never easy for the lighting designer, but the stage, or stages are cleverly lit by Paule Constable so all is illuminated without the light getting in your eyes.

It took some time for my jaw to stop dropping, as the incredible front-of-house staff, many in police outfits, gently corralled the crowd out of the way of the many different interconnecting platforms going seamlessly up and down.

And that’s just the beginning of the way director Nicholas Hytner tackles the challenge of presenting a musical that, for all its qualities, is still riven with the sexism of the 1950s. By making a significant chunk of the audience part of the show, they (and by proxy those of us who were sitting)  join the strange parallel universe of Runyonland, a world with stylised language, comic criminals, and binary guys and dolls. In this fantasy world, the men can all be gamblers and wastrels following Nathan Detroit’s floating crap game, and the women can all be Christian missionaries or strippers- the classic virgin or whore, until the happy ending brings us back to a more normal world, as if we have woken from a dream.

Then there’s the way Mr Hytner has cast the show. There are two love stories that give Guys And Dolls its momentum. For a bet, gambler Sky Masterston needs to seduce Sarah Brown, the buttoned-up leader of a Salvation Army-like mission. And Nathan Detroit needs to keep stringing along his hapless fiancée of 14 years, Miss Adelaide. In other words, the women are presented in the musical as the weaker sex. So, as if to make up for this, the production gives them the best and strongest voices in the show.

That’s no offence to Daniel Mays in the role of Nathan Detroit who has a decent singing voice. He sings his big duet Sue Me with great poignancy, but it is not challenging as a song, given that it was originally written for Sam Levine who was tone deaf. Andrew Richardson as Sky Masterson also sounds perfectly good but Celinde Schoenmaker as Sarah has a big lunged, high note hitting voice. And Marisha Wallace, who plays Miss Adelaide has a voice that could blow the roof off, and a personality to match. So while Miss Adelaide is a slave to her love for Nathan, in every other respect she comes across as a liberated, strong woman.

When Sarah and Adelaide sing the duet Marry The Man Today, they match one another note for note and provide one of the highlights of the show.

The rest of the cast are racially diverse, which is another way of pulling the musical into the present day.

The tone of the musical is set from the first number when out of the bustling crowd of actors and audience emerge a trio of petty criminals who sing Tinhorn Fugue, a song about betting on horses in which the actors sing different lyrics simultaneously to the same tune. The complexity of this circular canon delights and exhilarates, and sets us up for a musical which will continue to excite those emotions.

And what emotions they are. We’re quickly plunged into the first meeting between Sky and Sarah in which they sing the beautiful romantic song I’ll Know in which each describes their ideal lover.

The transformational power of love is the driving force of this musical, or, as the song puts it: ‘When you see a guy reach for stars in the sky,
you can bet that he’s doing it for some doll.’ In this production, the sexual side of love is accentuated. Miss Adelaide’s cabaret act is raunchier than I’ve ever seen it, especially when the Hot Box dancers give us a highly suggestive strip show to the tune of Take Back Your Mink; and in the Havana night club to which Sky takes Sarah, there is some very sensual dancing, at times between male couples (another nod to modernity).

Arlene Phillips’ dance routines are outstanding

Guys And Dolls at the Bridge Theatre. Photo: Manuel Harlan

And that trip to Havana is the point at which Sky and Sarah fall in love. Sarah, having got drunk, gets in a fight, then sings the stand-out song If I Were A Bell. Celinde Schoenmaker hits jaws and notes with equal force. For me, this was the best of legendary choreographer Arlene Phillips’ many outstanding dance routines, as Sarah leaps on and off lampposts and free falls into Sky’s arms. Both song and movement express the exuberance of falling in love.

Daniel Mays is peerlessBack to the floating crap game: before Andrew Richardson‘s slightly rumpled Sky Masterton sings a tense version of Luck, Be A Lady, Nathan Detroit is found squirming in the threatening presence of the gangster Big Jule, played by Cameron Johnson. While Daniel Mays is perfectly capable as a singer, as an actor he is peerless. Think Del Boy Trotter meets Arthur Daley and you get some idea of his realisation of a character who is both dominant to those below him and submissive to those above. Nathan may have a New York accent but in Daniel Mays’ hands he is straight out of the East End, titfer and all.

Then, as the gamblers assemble in the Mission Hall, we come to the moment we’ve all been waiting for: Sit Down, You’re Rocking The Boat, another fast, intoxicating song. It’s a classic 11 o’clock number (the name given to a showstopper that comes near the end of a musical), and Cedric Neal as Nicely-Nicely Johnson certainly does stop the show!

The song gets the many encores it deserves and the audience expects, not only for Mr Neal’s enthusiastic singing but also for the way the congregation sway in unison in their seats- yet another inventive dance sequence choreographed by Arlene Phillips. It’s a climactic moment that catapults us to the resolution of the plot.

But it ain’t over til it’s over. After the finale featuring the song Guys And Dolls, and the bows and the applause, the cast stay on the floor to dance with the audience, as the orchestra under the direction of Tom Brady plays us out.

If I have one reservation, it’s this. It’s inevitable that, with the risers going up and down, there is minimum scenery. No problem most of the time, but occasionally you may lose track of where we’re supposed to be.

One last thing. While the show is intended to be immersive and is aimed first and foremost at those standing on the floor, not everyone will want to stand and look up for over two hours. If you decide to buy a seat, the best in my opinion are in the centre of stalls rows BB and CC. In these seats, you will be level with the actors on the raised platforms, and feel close to the action. You will also be able to see the splendid orchestra on the opposite side of the auditorium at the back of the circle, and, as a bonus, you will have easy access to the onstage party at the end of the show.

Guys And Dolls is at The Bridge Theatre until 2 September 2023

Paul paid for his ticket

Click here to watch this review on our YouTube channel Theatre.Reviews With Paul Seven

 

 

 

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Sheridan Smith in Shirley Valentine – review

Is this Sheridan Smith’s best ever performance on stage?

★★★★★

Sheridan Smith in Shirley Valentine. Photo: John Wilson

You know those newspaper features where people are asked who they would invite to dinner.? Sheridan Smith has gone right to the top of my list. She may only have been acting out Willy Russell’s excellent script, but her performance in Shirley Valentine shows what an exceptional actor she is. From the very start, she has the audience in the palm of her hand. She looks at them, she smiles at them, she draws them into her confidence. And she knows how to tell a story and deliver a punchline. It is probably her best ever performance on stage.

Shirley Valentine is one of a triumvirate of plays, along with Educating Rita and Blood Brothers that were written in the 1980s by Willy Russell and established him as one of the great playwrights of his generation. All feature Liverpudlians, they’re all funny, they all have a natural flowing dialogue, and they all show deep understanding of what it is to be human. Shirley Valentine is a woman trapped in a humdrum life, with grown up children and a loveless marriage to an unappreciative, domineering man.

We first meet her in her kitchen. There’s a challenge in producing an intimate play for one person in a small space but set designer Paul Wills has been very clever. He compensates for the height and depth of the Duke Of York’s stage by adding an upstairs layer to the three walls of the kitchen, which sketches a monochrome bedroom and bathroom level. The three walls make no pretence to be a contained room, in fact they clearly take advantage of the space by using the gaps to suggest a brighter world beyond.

There is no danger of this one woman show being static, director Matthew Dunster keeps Sheridan Smith moving about the stage. At one point, she actually cooks ‘chips and eggs’ while continuing to talk- great acting indeed, and so much better than a plate of fake food.

Astounding rapport with the audience

Shirley chats about her life, using the concept of her talking to the wall but actually removing the fourth wall altogether to address the audience directly. She uses a treasure chest of acting skills: she speaks as if she is sharing a confidence with friends- clearly but without ever seeming to raise her voice, she smiles sweetly at us, gives us a sly glance, pauses for us to fill in, in our minds, what she is about to say. Her rapport with her audience is something to behold- and indeed experience.

Shirley knows that she has reached middle age unfulfilled but she accepts her submissive role in life and sees no prospect of escaping it. It’s not that she is without insight or dreams or the thought of rebellion: ‘I have allowed myself to lead this little life,’ she says, ‘when inside me there was so much more.’

She tells many amusing anecdotes about her life at school, where her confidence was knocked out of her, as happens to so many working class kids. Even funnier are her subsequent encounters with her grown-up and apparently successful friends, which only underline the emptiness of her repetitive, servile life in which dinner must be on the table each evening as her husband walks through the door.

Then she is presented with the opportunity to go with a friend to Greece. At first, it’s more of a fantasy than something she would really do, but certain events tip her into deciding to do it.

After the interval, we spend a short but intense time with Shirley in Greece. The stage is now wide open with a blue Mediterranean sky as a backdrop. She tells us- and a rock- what has happened. Her impressions of a philandering bar owner, jingoistic English tourists, and her own liberated self make this a hilarious and satisfying final act.

Sheridan Smith took the curtain call like someone genuinely happy to have shared the evening with us, nodding and smiling and pointing. And, judging by the loud and long applause, the feeling was mutual.

Shirley Valentine is at the Duke Of York’s Theatre until 3 June 2023. There are hopes it may tour.

Paul purchased his ticket.

Click here to watch this review on YouTube

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Sophie Okonedo & Ben Daniels in Medea – Review

Powerful performances from Okonedo & Daniels

Production photo from Medea at sohoplace theatre in London February 2023 showing a woman holding up her hand in the rain
Sophie Okonedo in Medea. Photo: Johan Persson

★★★★

You may well be familiar with the horror story of Medea. It began as an Ancient Greek myth and was immortalised in a play by Euripides. In this review, I’ll be talking about how it ends. If you don’t know, and want to have the extra tension of wondering whether or not she will commit the terrible act of violence that is threatened from the beginning, you may want to stop reading.  Although, if you do, you’ll miss me talking about a stunning theatre production featuring Sophie Okonedo and Ben Daniels giving two of the most powerful performances I’ve seen.

In Euripides’ version of the myth, Medea kills her children as an act of vengeance against her husband who has left her for a richer, more influential and younger woman. Stories of parents murdering their children make headlines to this day, and no doubt such an act was just as shocking to the Ancient Greeks. But what Euripides does, while not in any way whitewashing the monstrosity of the act, is to lay out everything that led to it. 

Unlike the other ancient classic currently gracing the London stage, namely Phaedra at the National which I saw and enjoyed last week, this production makes no attempt to modernise the story. Yes, the characters wear modern dress but it’s fairly plain, and the set, designed by Vicki Mortimer, is almost bare. Such details as there are, are telling– a low wall concealing a staircase to a basement (where the final horrors take place) is made of stone (a word that is used frequently in the play to describe Medea); high above hangs a giant golden headband or crown which parallels the circular stage and predicts the headband that is weaponised later in the play. Even a table and chairs which could denote the possibility of sitting and talking things through are removed before a word is spoken.

And this is all happening in the round, at the wonderful new theatre @sohoplace. So it’s like being in an Ancient Greek amphitheatre, where the audience was all around, drawn into the play and treated as witnesses and judges. Even more so, because no-one is more than a few rows from the actors. In fact, the chorus of three women sits among the audience, making us all feel like we’re the women of Corinth trying in vain to understand and intervene. 

Even the adaptation is a classic, the 1947 version by American poet Robinson Jeffers, which has both the natural flow of modern English and an accentuated use of metaphor. ‘Stone’, ‘bone’ and ‘dog’ run like a motifs through the play.

Medea has been wronged and she wants revenge. She played a major part in the success of her husband Jason (of Argonaut and Golden Fleece fame) only for him to betray her by leaving her for the daughter of Creon, the King of Corinth . The play is a series of ‘interviews’ between Medea and the powerful men in her life: Creon, Aegheus the King of Athens, and of course Jason.

 From the very beginning of Robinson Jeffers’ adaptation, Medea is full-on angry and prepared to be as evil as required in response to the perceived evil of Jason and of the male-controlled society that has demeaned her. And what this means is that Sophie Okonedo can let rip with her anger and her anguish from the start.

Euripides’ explanation, Daniels’ provocation, Okonedo’s persuasion

I guarantee you will rarely have seen a performance like that of Sophie Okonedo as Medea.  She’s mad with anger, yet able to outargue and deceive these men with smiles and guile. She cries proper snotty tears, she smiles like a tiger, her eyes turn to stone, all in a minute. You may know what’s going to happen, but the tension is palpable, because, even when given an out, the men patronise her, and, even though they know she is to be feared, underestimate her.

As modern people, we are more into the idea of atonement and forgiveness but we understand the visceral need for revenge, and while we may not see it as noble in the way the Greeks did, this play helps us comprehend why Medea feels she has no alternative but to carry out her gruesome vengeance and we feel her heart breaking at the thought of it.

Production photo from Medea at sohoplace theatre in London February 2023 showing a man in a vest in the rain
Ben Daniels in Medea. Photo: Johan Persson

In an astonishing piece of theatre, director Dominic Cooke has one actor Ben Daniels play all the male parts, thus emphasising that it is men generically who rule society. Even so, Mr Daniels, in a performance as powerful as Miss Okenedo’s, gives each of them a distinct personality: the selfish Jason, the weak King Creon, the shallow King Aegheus. And he constantly walks round the edge of the stage, usually in slow motion, showing she is encircled and trapped by men who disrespect Medea and take all chance of justice away from her.

The panic of the women around Medea, especially Marion Bailey as the Nurse, piles on the stress.

This is a most tense and ultimately devastating 90 minutes. You don’t actually see any of the deaths but I can tell you the hairs on my neck stood up when Medea went down the stairs to kill her children.

And this is where it goes wrong as a play. It may, or may not, have worked for the ancient Greeks- but for a modern sensibility, murdering your children crosses a line, even with all of Euripides’ explanation, and Ben Daniels’ provocation, and Sophie Okonedo’s persuasion. It is too much like a terrorist justifying killing innocent people.

Medea can be seen at sohoplace theatre in London until 22 April 2023.

Paul paid for his ticket.

Click here to watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre.Reviews With Paul Seven

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