Category: Review

Longer versions of reviews featured on the YouTube channel  and podcast One Minute Theatre Reviews, mainly London shows and selected regional and touring productions

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Theatre review: Natalie Dormer in Anna Karenina at Chichester Festival Theatre

Game Of Thrones star soars in clipped Tolstoy

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Natalie Dormer in Anna Karenina. Photo: Marc Brenner

For the second time in less than a week, I’ve sat through a play more than three hours long. Stereophonic which I saw a few days ago was, for me, too long. But Anna Karenina was actually too short. It barely gave Tolstoy or Natalie Dormer the chance to show off their brilliance. It was a good try but fell short of doing justice to a great novel.

At three hours, this stage adaptation by Phillip Breen can only hope to present a fraction of Tolstoy’s novel which runs to 38 hours on Audible. Mr Breen has chosen to try to tell the stories of all three of the main women: Anna, Dolly and Kitty. As a result none of them get a full swing at their characters in the time available.
Nevertheless the actors give impressive performances, not least Natalie Dormer as Anna who, within the scope she is given, brings a tornado of emotion to the role, so much so you find yourself longing for her next moment on stage. She has a rich colorata voice like a full bodied red wine, and her piercing eyes and curling mouth give passion to her words.
Naomi Sheldon as Dolly is wonderfully over the top as she harangues her useless philandering husband, bemoans her ageing body and rails against everything with a tirade of very modern expletives. Incidentally I thought the use of contemporary, particularly sexual, terms, while anachronistic, did work well as shorthand for the characters’ feelings.
Kitty was the most one dimensional of the main protagonists but Shalisha James-Davis made the most of this woman constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, as she assesses her obsessive suitor-then-husband.
The actors certainly convey the essence of their characters but inevitably much colour is lost. A great deal of narrative is also lost to what much of the time becomes a plot summary.
So, what is the plot? Anna is dissatisfied with ordinary family life and her husband Karenin, a seemingly nice, tolerant chap, and nicely played by Tomiwa Edun. She leaves him for a more passionate life with her lover Vronsky, whose fire cracker character is beautiully conveyed by Seamus Dillane. However, this being the mid 19th century, and she finds herself ostracised from society and separated from her children. Worse still, she begins to doubt Vronsky’s faithfulness. In fact all the men seem to have a roving eye whether they act upon it or not.
Two other unhappy relationships are explored. Levin, played with passion by David Oates, loves Kitty but she resists him. She thinks he will be unfaithful because of his past record of bed hopping. Eventually she is reassured and marries him but her doubts continue right up to a traumatic childbirth.
Dolly is already well into a marriage and has many children. Her husband Stiva gambles and womanises, in a splendidly spineless characterization by Jonnie Broadbent, and she constantly rails at him and at her own lack of attractiveness.
The problem with this filleting approach is that we lose much of the complexity of the characters and their lives. Rather than the flesh, we get the bare bones of the plot. When it comes down to it, plot is only the structure on which good novels or plays build their characters’ development. In this adaptation we are given three women who don’t trust their partners, shout and cry a lot, and end more or less happier than they began. And Tolstoy’s novel is a great deal more than that.
Anna Karenina at Chichester Festival Theatre. Photo: Marc Brenner

The other challenge is how to design it. The open Chichester stage doesn’t allow for solid scenery, except at the very back. So how to present horses and trains, very important components of this story? Since the adaptor Phillip Breen is also the director, we can assume he had a hand in the approach.

Although Max Jones’ exciting design is busy with many chairs that are moved around, the most noticeable aspect is a nursery theme. Children’s toys are scattered round the stage- dolls houses, horses, a train set. It serves to emphasise, perhaps, that women in this period are still treated like children in terms of their rights. I’m pretty sure the doll’s houses were meant to remind us of Ibsen’s play about another woman trapped in domesticity, a part which Natalie Dormer surely must play. The train set reminds us that the world is changing: modern inventions such as the railways and electricity have arrived. While the former is central to the story, the latter is also given its moment in the spotlight, so to speak, in the form of tubes of light which descend and form, of course, a cage.
The wooden horses come in handy as substitutes for the real thing but frankly the sight of a man shooting an ‘injured’ one was comical- shades of Monty Pyhton and Spamalot. And when Les Dennis in a delightful cameo as the world weary servant Petka drives a carriage drawn by rocking horse, it’s silly rather than amusing. I would rather have used my imagination more, something which we had to do, when it came to the all important train.
I liked many of the effects. The trio of Japanese musicians who played Paddy Cunneen’s edgy music. The way the large cast ( and there are nineteen named actors) sat in chairs at the back of the stage, especially the moment they scraped cutlery together during a dining scene.
There are too many short scenes which become messy but there are some scenes which really hit home, like Anna’s secretive visit to see her son. A rare moment when you really understand profoundly what she has given up.
This adaptation of Tolstoy’s novel is a brave attempt but, like Scott’s trek to the South Pole, it falls short of total success.
Anna Karenina can be seen at Chichester Festival theatre until 28 June 2025. Buy tickets directly here.
Paul was given a review ticket by the theatre.
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Review: Jack Lowden & Martin Freeman in The Fifth Step

Two screen stars excel in black comedy about addiction

@sohoplace

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Martin Freeman & Jack Lowden in The Fifth Step. Photo: Johan Persson

The most important thing to say about The Fifth Step is, it’s very funny. Yes, it’s about two recovering addicts, one taking the first steps in the Alcoholics Anonymous programme, the other his older sponsor. Yes, there are shocking revelations and even violence. Yes, it explores trust in authority, toxic masculinity, lack of self esteem, and self deception but it’s written by David Ireland, the master of black comedy responsible for Cyprus Avenue and The Ulster American. And it stars Jack Lowden, who’s River Cartwright from Slow Horses, and Martin Freeman of Sherlock and The Hobbit fame. I can’t imagine any pair of actors doing it a better job of balancing over-the-top humour and mental anguish.

Jack Lowden and Martin Freeman are on stage continuously for the entire hour-and-a-half. The wonderful in-the-round stage of @sohoplace has never been better used. Milla Clarke‘s set is minimal, with a few collapsible chairs and a table that can be brought out or tucked away, as needed. There is nowhere for the actors to hide, any more than their characters can, no matter how much they try. Director Finn Den Hertog choreographs the movement of the actors and furniture, like a boxing match. And, if we’re going for metaphors, there’s also a raised edge that the characters can walk along precariously between scenes. Because these are men on the edge.

Jack Lowden is Luka, a newly recovering addict nearing the fifth step of the AA programme, Martin Freeman is James, an older mentor who has been through it and offers his experience to the younger man. At first, Luka is man who needs help. He doesn’t know what to do or where to turn once he has given up drink. Jack Lowden gives Luka teary eyed desperation as he says, “I think I might be an incel.” James offers wisdom and advice, but whatever crutch Luka reaches for, like a bouncing puppy with wide-eyed hope,  James moves him on- ‘don’t go to the pub, don’t masturbate, don’t have an affair with a married woman, don’t believe in Jesus.’ These are some of the funniest moments, as when sexist Luka speaks in a filthy way about women, without seeing the problem, while an exasperated James makes wry, often cynical,

It turns out that neither of them are fully to be believed. The two actors excel at conveying and concealing layers of truth. At first Martin Freeman is smiling, firm in his pronouncements, with a gimlet eye on Luka, but there is something about his controlling manner and his pointing finger that make you wonder about him even from the start. The meetings between the two continue and Luka gains in self esteem, until they reach the fifth step, which is confession about the harm their addiction may have done.

It’s then that we see what happens when faith is exploited and trust breaks down.  The newly confident Luka challenges his mentor as revelations about James’ contradictory instructions and hypocritical behaviour emerge. When that happens, James starts to break down with an aggressive defensiveness that includes nasty insults and actual, truly shocking violence near the end (it drew a gasp form the audience and was one of the best choreographed fights I’ve seen). Questions about the nature and abuse of authority come to the fore, already primed by earlier references to abuse of children by priests.

I felt the ending was silly, soft and rather sentimental, after such searing black comedy, and I could have done without so much reference to the importance of spiritual belief, even if there are some good jokes about it. Nevertheless, this is such a funny and profound play, and so well acted, I am happy to overlook those slight flaws, and thoroughly recommend The Fifth Step.

The Fifth Step is at @sohoplace until 26 July 2025. Buy tickets from the theatre here.

Paul paid for his own ticket.

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

Click here to read Paul’s roundup of other critics’ reviews of The Fifth Step.

 

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Theatre Review: Stereophonic at the Duke Of York’s

Long but rewarding look at the creative process

Stereophonic at the Duke of York’s.Photo: Marc Brenner

When I heard Stereophonic was coming to London, I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It holds the record for Tony nominations for a play and won the Award for Best Play.  So the light was attractive but it turned out that the destructive flame was my lack of interest in rock music, let alone the factory that produces the sausage. Once the three hour play began, I soon remembered why it was not likely to be my sniff of cocaine. So how did I get on with the story of a rock band spending a year in a recording studio?

If the Amazon Prime drama series Daisy Jones & The Six, or Get Back, the eight hour trilogy of films documenting the Beatles’ recording of Let It Be, whetted your appetite for delving into the Babylon of the 1970s that gave birth to some of our greatest popular music, then this show will be for you.
For me, interminable conversations between the various band members about their relationships, and about the recordings, that made up the first half were alleviated only by the songs themselves. Written by Will Butler, formerly of Arcade Fire, they are actually pretty good pastiches of seventies rock. To be fair, there was some witty dialogue by the author of the play David Adjmi.
The unnecessarily long first half sets up a much more interesting second half. As relationships break up, tensions between the band rise, and questions are raised about the nature of creativity, the play, directed by Daniel Aukin, becomes more and more gripping.
Here’s the plot: in the mid 1970s a rock band are recording their second album. The five members are a mix of British and American, and comprise two couples plus the drummer. As they begin their work in the studio, word comes through that a single from their first album and then the album itself are climbing the charts. Suddenly much more money is made available to them by the record company. This turns out to be a case of ‘be careful what you wish for’, because, without the discipline of a time limit, paranoia and perfectionism run unbridled, and the recording extends in length to a year.
The entire play, in four acts, takes place in the studio, so we as an audience feel as trapped as the band in this cramped timeless space, reminiscent of a scenario by Samuel Beckett. Three hours of repetition with the same seven faces start to seem like a year. Designed by David Zinn, the set is constructed in meticulous detail, with the recording booth behind glass at the back of the stage, and the mixer desk and relaxation area at the front.
The most interesting character is the band leader and driving force, Peter, given an edgy performance by Jack Riddiford. It is a stunning portrayal of an artistic genius, who is never satisfied with the quality of the work. His increasingly controlling nature, combined with an absence of social skills, annoys all those present. He combines long silences, lack of consultation, and cutting criticism with a self centred unawareness of his effect on others.
In particular he picks on his longtime girlfriend Diana, played by Lucy Karczewski. Not entirely coincidentally, she has written their hit single and is contributing as many songs as him to the new album. Whether it’s professional jealousy or his desire to dominate her, he deliberately undermines her confidence in both her writing and singing, leading to an increasingly fraught relationship.
Zachary Hart gives life to bass player Reg. His brain is so addled with alcohol he can hardly put one foot in front of the other but can still lay down a great bass line. His behaviour is to the detriment of his relationship with his wife and the band’s keyboard player Holly played by Nia Towle. As he begins to replace his addiction to drink with new addictions to various forms of lifestyle and philosophy, he becomes a proselytiser looking to buttonhole and bore anyone he meets with his New Age beliefs.
Simon the drummer has been away from his family for far too long, and, while he seems like the level headed one, exhaustion leads to moments of ego and insecurity. Chris Stack cleverly adopts a calm, slightly strangulated voice that hides his character’s anxieties. We also see why common sense like his will not get the best out of this creative process.
The two women are not respected by the men, despite the quality of their work, and ironically they are underdeveloped as characters in the play. Their generally down-to-earth behaviour with occasional outbursts only hints at their troubled lives rather than revealing what drives them. This especially applies to Diana whose talent for writing appears to come from nowhere. Her lack of confidence turns out to be the product of her destructive relationship with Peter, but we get little insight into how she would got herself into the situation or how she can get out of it.
Trying to hold things together is recording engineer Grover, a masterful portrait of nerves, obsequiousness and frustration, from Eli Gelb. His hapless assistant Charlie played by Andrew R Butler provides much needed light relief. Like Chris Stack, these two are from the original Broadway cast.
I don’t want to give the impression it’s all argument and mental breakdown, there is also humour in the bickering and banter of David Adjmi’s natural sounding conversations.
Eventually the album is finished but the battle to produce it has left many casualties. At times, I felt like one of them. However the second act goes a long way to redeeming the first. I think how highly you rate this play may depend on your interest in the subject matter because, unlike say Dear England and its exploration of leadership in a football setting, Stereophonic’s study of the creative process doesn’t take you far enough beyond its rock music context.
Stereophonic can be seen at the Duke Of York’s Theatre until 11 October 2025. Click here to buy tickets directly from the theatre.
Paul received a review ticket from the producer.
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Theatre review: Imelda Staunton in Mrs Warren’s Profession

Mother Daughter Clash is Perfect Harmony

Garrick Theatre


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Imelda staunton & Bessie Carter in Mrs Warren’s Profession. Photo: Johan Persson

What is Mrs Warren’s Profession? Well, she’s a highly successful owner of brothels across Europe, sometimes called a ‘madam’. Not that the word “brothel” is mentioned once nor “prostitute”, but we know what the text is alluding to, and so did the Lord Chamberlain, the official censor back in late Victorian times. He banned George Bernard Shaw’s play and it wasn’t publicly performed in Britain until 1925.

It’s what’s known as a ‘problem play’, and the problems in society that it addresses remain relevant today. Shaw uses a conflict between mother and daughter to examine all kinds of issues- in particular, the lack of opportunity and subsequent poverty that forces women into prostitution; and the role of capitalism which sees all workers exploited.

And, in a marketing dream, Mrs Warren and her daughter are played in this production by real life mother and daughter Imelda Staunton and Bessie Carter. So before we delve any further into the play and the production, let’s address the question of whether we gained from the genetic connection. I’m going to say, ‘no.’ Of course, I don’t know what intuitive understanding the two may have, but, for me, this could have been any pairing of a great actor and an up-and-coming one. Interestingly there is little physical resemblance between them, Ms Carter being much taller and angular than her mother, which makes their characters’ similarly strong wills more of a surprise.
Imelda Staunton in Mrs Warren’s Profession. Photo: Johan Persson

Imelda Staunton was, as you might expect, phenomenally good. I can’t begin to tell you the complexity and depth she brings to the role. Her Mrs Warren speaks with that affected accent that people of working class origins often adopt when finding themselves in high society- vowels slightly stretched, a nasal tone- and it’s an accent that slips every so often when she’s stressed.

She carries herself stiffly, for the same reasons, but sometimes her shoulders drop along with her defences. She is firm and imperious, with a tight smile, but she is wary of her daughter, whose approval and understanding she craves. So she can be vulnerable, shown most in her widening eyes and loosening jaw. That’s just touching the surface of what she does, constantly offering subtle insights into her character’s feelings.

The daughter Vivie has all the benefits of being the daughter of a rich mother. She has just graduated from Oxford, is a star mathematics scholar and, while at this point society would expect her to marry, she is interested in pursuing a career. She is presented to us as a New Woman, a quasi suffragette who is not interested in such feminine traits as romance and subservience. She buries her emotions and is self contained.
There are two key scenes between mother and daughter. In the first, Mrs Warren, with whom Vivie has had minimal contact during her childhood, wants to get to know her child with the idea that they can be close and she can grow old with the support of a dutiful daughter.
She decides to explain where the wealth came from. She talks of the deprivation of her childhood and the limited choices available to poor working class women. Vivie is shocked but understanding and sympathetic. It’s a scene in which so many layers are stripped and both women, hardened by their lives, show touching emotion. It is especially a moment for Bessie Carter to shine when she reveals both trauma and compassion breaking through her normally buttoned up exterior.
Not for long. As the play progresses, Vivie discovers that the business was not a thing of the past from which her mother retired, as she assumed, but continues to thrive. A second scene is a confrontation in which both show their similarly strong will and stand their ground- Vivie idealistically deploring the immorality involved in prostitution, Mrs Warren pragmatically defending it as a way of becoming and staying rich.
Will Vivie accept the harsh realities of the world? Will Mrs Warren sacrifice her business, and thereby her status, for her daughter? I’m not going spoil any more, if you’re not familiar with the play.

Fabulous looking

Instead, let’s look at the production. I might have liked it to be less static to counter the almost constant adversarial dialogue but Dominic Cooke directs with considerable finesse. The action is moved forward a couple of decades to 1913, a time which seems less divorced from today than the late Victorian period, and the dresses from that time do look fabulous.
Bessie Carter in Mrs Warren’s Profession. Photo: Johan Persson

As does the set, also designed by Chloe Lamford. It’s far more minimalist than the naturalistic set Shaw might have intended. We start in a garden filled with a few chairs and lots of flowers. It seems everything is coming up roses. Then the flowers are removed slowly but surely by a troupe of women in period underwear, reminding us of the anonymous exploited prostitutes. At the end we are left with one bouquet of flowers dumped in a waste paper basket in Vivie’s office, dominated by a large desk and surrounded by blank grey walls.

Here’s the thing about Shaw. He may have been a socialist who wanted to write a play exposing a hypocritical society that devalued and exploited women but he didn’t simplify the problem. He created two rounded, flawed characters, who are more than ciphers.
His hero and chief protagonist Vivie is a woman obsessed with work and money, with no apparent love of life, not even theatre. It appears she considers her mother’s profession immoral, not because she has exploited women but purely because it involves sex work. On the other hand, the villain, if you like, has acted out of what to her was necessity and, from her point of view, has done her best for the daughter she loves. His genius is to turn their conflict into a complex drama, that conjures passion, sympathy, anger and laughter.
Other characters are more two dimensional. Sir George Crofts, who was an angel investor in Mrs Warren’s business and has made a fortune from it, is an arch capitalist who points out the business is no different to all the other enterprises that exploit their workers. Robert Glenister portrays brilliantly the man’s cringingly condescending attitude. The Reverend Samuel Gardner represents the hypocrisy of the Church, since he has previously used Mrs Warren’s services. I liked Kevin Doyle’s All Gas And Gaiters interpretation (that’s one for older viewers). His son Frank Gardner, played by Reuben Joseph, is a profligate looking around for a woman to marry so he can appropriate all her assets, as was the law in those days. Mr Praed, played by Sid Sagar, is an architect, but more importantly represents the aesthetes who put art and beauty above all else, including right and wrong.
So, is Mrs Warren’s Profession relevant today? The battle between world weary parents and holier-than-thou children is eternal, and we all face an internal conflict between doing the right thing and putting a meal on the table. Capitalism continues to be a dominant force, making a tiny elite very rich and, yes, bringing wealth to many, but also continuing to exploit an underclass, often these days in China as much as online order delivery drivers. Add to that, exploiting the planet. Women have gained many equality rights but continue to be discriminated against in male dominated industries. Has the hypocrisy regarding work involving sex changed? Clearly not as much as we might like to think. Just last week an male athlete was banned from the 2028 Olympics for raising money through ‘spicy’(his word) videos on OnlyFans.
So there’s plenty to chew on, and, if you’re familiar with the play, you might find a little less fat, since Dominic Cooke has made some judicious edits, which speed it up and remove some of the long-winded bits. The hour and 50 minutes without interval flies by. It certainly whetted my appetite to see more of Shaw, a great dramatist, who seems to be a bit unfashionable at the moment.
I would also like to see more of Bessie Carter. Her mother is one of our greatest stage actors, but she herself has shown in this production that she has the potential to reach that pinnacle too.
Mrs Warren’s Profession can be seen at the Garrick Theatre until 16 August 2025. Buy tickets direct from the theatre
Paul paid for his ticket.
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Theatre review: Conversations After Sex

Raw emotions in a play about loss

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A woman and a man in conversation sitting on a bed
Olivia Lindsay and Julian Moore-Cook in Conversations After Sex. Photo: Jake Bush

Mark O’Halloran’s Conversations After Sex is about a woman throwing herself into 12 months of casual anonymous sex. Having won the Irish Times Best New Play Award, it is receiving its UK premiere at the Park90 Theatre. The intimate venue is ideal for watching such private conversations. The set is essentially a bed with a small amount of space around it, and the audience closing in on three sides.

There are something like twenty short scenes in which the character referred to as ‘She’ and played by Olivia Lindsay has just had casual sex and then chats with the man in question. Sometimes he is a returning lover, although even then they don’t know each other’s names; more often he’s a passing acquaintance. All are played by Julian Moore-Cook. There are occasional scenes, just as brief, between ‘She’ and her sister played by Jo Herbert.

It seems ‘She’ has engaged upon a series of one night stands after a traumatic event involving her partner, about which more is gradually revealed in the course of the play. The meaningless sex is a kind of self therapy, both a distraction and a way of moving on. I doubt it’s a form of therapy any counsellor would recommend but, over twelve months, she does reach some kind of understanding.

Despite the conversations being post-coital, they are rarely about sex. Nor do we see the sex that preceded them. We join them at the moment when the participants’ defences are down, thanks to both the anonymity of the liaison and the abandonment involved in sex. So, the men are inclined to be more honest than they might otherwise be, when they have an image to project and protect.

Julian Moore-Cook conveys the multiple male characters with great skill. Without the aid of costume changes, he goes from puppyish young man to emotional jilted boyfriend to self confident cheat. His face is a valuable tool that he manipulates through boyish smile to bewilderment to jutting pride.

Olivia Lindsay and Julian Moore-Cook in Conversations After Sex. Photo: Jake Bush

The men tell tales of their adventures- one has had sex with half his neighbours, although he qualifies this by saying he lives in a cul-de-sac. They talk about their betrayals, like the one who gave his girlfriend chlamydia. They get upset about having been criticised. They rarely show self awareness as they reveal their self absorption. It is certainly an insight into the male psyche.

‘She’ seems glad of the company, and amuses herself (and us) with ironic comments. Some of her more serious remarks suggest she is looking for more than escape: ‘you remind me of someone,’ she says, as if these representatives of the male sex might offer a key to understanding her former lover.

Olivia Lindsay has a great way with an arched eyebrow and wry smile.  Every so often, something triggers ‘She’ to remember her pain and her own emotions spill out. Again Ms Lindsay conveys these bursts of sadness with great feeling.

Revealing portraits & questionable nudity

I can’t say whether this is an accurate portrayal of the world of casual sex but, in the confined space of this play, these sad, amusing and occasionally angry encounters come across as believable. The dialogue and structure are well nigh perfect. Although much of the conversation is on the level of a chat, every so often the men, stripped of their defences, reveal grief over the death of parents or departure of lovers. What emerges clearly is that the real theme of the play is loss. Even the Sister is experiencing a loss.

Despite their tears, the men don’t impress us.  This is partly because they seem peripheral, but also because they are portrayed as so narcissistic. By contrast, the ever present woman’s raw emotions as she navigates her grief touch your heart. The production is tightly directed by Jess Edwards, with splendid performances by all the cast.

But I have to question the use of nudity in this production. Nakedness on stage can be gratuitous, but in this case it is an important element of the story. The author’s intention in the script was that both main characters should start off naked. They soon get dressed, at least into their underwear, and remain so for the rest of the play, but I think this starting point is important because it symbolises the vulnerability of the characters in this situation, and reinforces why they are so honest about their thoughts and feelings. However, in this production, while Julian Moore-Cook is first seen completely naked, Olivia Lindsay is not.

I don’t know whose decision that was, and I’m not saying it ruined the production, but I do think it was a mistake, because the difference in the two characters’ first appearance created a misleading dynamic between them, suggesting only the man’s defences were down, which is far from the case.

Nevertheless Conversations After Sex is a fine piece of writing in a strong production and I would urge you to get to the Park Theatre and treat yourself to this little gem before it closes.

Conversations After Sex can be seen at the Park Theatre until 17 May 2025. Click here to buy tickets direct from the theatre.

Paul was given a review ticket by the venue.

Watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre Reviews With Paul Seven

 

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Theatre review: The Government Inspector at Chichester

Satire on corrupt officialdom is a splendid farce


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Tom Rosenthal and Lloyd Hutchinson in The Government Inspector. Photo: Ellie-Kurttz

Chichester Festival Theatre has pulled out all the stops for the launch of its 2025 season: a legendary director, a complex set, and a stage filling cast, plus three musicians as a bonus. In the end, this production of The Government Inspector turns out to be slightly less than the sum of its parts, it’s not for want of trying, and I thoroughly recommend it if you’re looking for a good night out. This satire on government corruption is still relevant, and there’s a moment of physical comedy that anyone who sees it will never forget .

Gogol’s The Government Inspector is a copper bottomed classic, revolutionary when it was written nearly two hundred years ago and still an enjoyable satire on corrupt local officials. Constant revivals and more contemporary plays inspired by it – Accidental Death of an Anarchist springs to mind- may have blunted its sharpness but its depiction of politicians’ greed, bullying and cowardice still strikes a chord. And no wonder in an era of the Covid scandals and a US President who humiliates and attacks his closest allies.

This production is helped by a febrile new translation by Phil Porter, but most of all by the decision of former RSC Artistic Director Gregory Doran to turn up the physical comedy to boiling point.

Some of the slapstick had me in stitches: there’s an extraordinary moment when someone falls through a roof and crashes onto a bed, which I still can’t believe happened. In fact I was too shocked to laugh straightaway. On another occasion, a character feels ‘weak at the knees’ and then walks as if his legs are made of rubber

The story is pretty simple. There’s a report that a Government Inspector is due to visit a town full of corrupt officials. A con man called Khlestakov is mistaken for the investigator and the frightened civic chiefs try to mollify him with flattery and bribes. The truth is eventually revealed but by then he has squeezed a fortune out of them and gone on his way.

All the characters are caricatures and none have any redeeming features:  in fact, the longer the play goes on, the more nasty they are revealed to be. Even the fake inspector, while he  might be a hero for exposing and humiliating the officials, is no better than them in his unpleasantness to everyone around him. His arrogance and general amorality is offset by his confidence and charm which are perfectly portrayed by an imperious, smiling Tom Rosenthal.

Leading the duped is The Mayor, a bustling little man and a classic bully, condescending and sometimes vicious to those below him, obsequious to those he considers his superiors. You can feel the mounting frustration and fear in Lloyd Hutchinson’s portrayal.

The Judge, an unashamed womaniser proud to take bribes, is a huge man, played by Joe Dixon with northern bluntness and silly walks.  Christopher Middleton as the Head of Schools is a wide-eyed nervous wreck. Oscar Pearce is The Charity Commissioner who is the most self serving and disloyal of all, and that’s saying something given the competition. 

Comedy heights

Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky could be straight out of Munchkinland- Tweedledum and Tweedledee might be another way of looking at them. They are on the outside of the corrupt group, trying to get in. Wearing almost identical dapper suits, these social climbers are constant rivals in their desperation to impress. Played by Miltos Yerolemou and Paul Rider, they provide the best verbal and physical comedy as well as the only moment of poignancy in the entire play, when they reveal to the fake inspector their chronic need for social status.

The Mayor’s wife is a familiar character from comedy down the ages.  Think Mrs Bennet or Sybil Fawlty, and any number of other ambitious middle class snobs. Sylvestra Le Touzel wrings plenty of laughs out of this stereotype. Her daughter, who is both subservient and a rival to her mother, is given a nicely judged performance by Laurie Ogden. Both are pursued by the indiscrimately libidinous Khlestakov.

Assisting him is another trope- the kind of clever, resourceful, put-upon servant that must have been a cliche even two centuries ago, but Nick Haverson throws himself into the role as if it was a fresh idea.

And that’s just half the cast.

The Government Inspector. Photo: Ellie-Kurttz

In what seems like a rarity these days, this classic is set in the original time and place- Russia in the early 19th century. This endows distance and means you can draw your own parallels with any government anywhere any time. Better still, it allows for some colourful  period costumes from designer Francis O’Connor, including the musicians playing between acts in what looks like traditional Russian folk dress. He also provides a surreal set that uses filing cabinet drawers overflowing with papers not only as part of the walls but also along the apron of the thrust stage. The effect is of chaotic bureaucracy bursting out of an old fashioned office.

The slapstick reduces in the second act as we discover the true barbarity of these comic characters, which frankly isn’t funny, but there is still time for an hilarious climactic fight involving almost all the cast. Congratulations, Movement Director Mike Ashcroft.

There may not be quite as many laughs as the opening scenes promise, nor is there a single twist you didn’t see coming but The Government Inspector at Chichester is still a a lot of fun, and as shockingly relevant today as it has ever been. Seeing those terrible politicians getting their comeuppance is worth the price of the ticket alone.

The Government Inspector can be seen at Chichester Festival Theatre until 24 May 2025. Click here to buy tickets direct from the theatre.

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

 

 

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Theatre review: The Brightening Air with Chris O’Dowd and Rosie Sheehy

Outstanding acting as dreams are crushed


⭑⭑⭑⭑

The Brightening Air at The Old Vic

Is The Brightening Air a comedy with a serious message or a drama with humour? Either way, it’s great entertainment showcasing outstanding acting.

If you’re thinking that a mixture of comedy and profundity sounds a bit Chekhovian, you’re right. Indeed, if you’re familiar Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya- and the playwright Conor McPherson certainly is, having directed a memorable production- you may recognise elements of the plot about a dysfunctional family stuck in the past that is forced to confront change by the arrival of a relative.

A mature brother and sister live in a run-down Irish farm in the 80s. Stephen is a failure as a businessman, Billie is unreliable due to what I take to be autism. With them, almost a lodger, is their sister-in-law Lydia, still in love with their long departed brother Dermot.

He is a successful owner of cafes, a business so perfect as a symbol  of the rise of individualised consumerism. His arrival at the farm with a much younger girlfriend Freya in tow, sets off a chain of events that blows apart all the characters’ dreams and self delusions.

There is one other significant arrival, back from the outside world as it were. Uncle Pierre, their father’s brother, is a blind priest, relying on Elizabeth, his housekeeper, companion and a little more besides, who needs a man she can control as much as he needs her care.

Billie is gifted with much insight but is not taken seriously because her autism causes her to shout and go off at tangents, like reciting the details of railway timetables. Rosie Sheehy, after her sensational starring role in Machinal, once again shows her greatness as an actor who can inhabit extreme emotions. For all the strong qualities of the other actors, it is her you can’t take your eyes off.

Stephen, played by Brian Gleeson, is depressed, lamenting his failure both at business and love. Also living in the past is Lydia, forever hoping that Dermot will return to her.

Dermot is cringingly sleazy. Chris O’Dowd is on top form as a self-centred alpha male. Not only has he abandoned the family farm to his younger sublings, he has no ability to commit to relationships, and chases after young women. How old is this one? ‘In her twenties, well twenty… next birthday.’

Since it is the 1980s when Ireland, once a backwater on the western edge of Europe is becoming the Celtic tiger, Dermot could be seen as representative of the booming economy and its detrimental effect on a traditional way of life.

Other members of this superb cast are Derbhie Crotty as the scheming passive-aggressive Elizabeth, Aisling Kearns as a wide-eyed Freya and Eimhin Fitzgerald Doherty as the young exploited farmworker Brendan.

The design by Rae Smith occupies every inch of the huge Old Vic stage. Although a shimmering grey curtain appears every so often at the back, the action is entirely downstage in one perfectly realised room of the farmhouse. I think this might signify the vastness of the world surrounding this small community but for me it had an alienating effect. I suspect the play would work even better if it was done in a more intimate set and auditorium.

After the interval, a metaphorical bomb explodes. I won’t spoil the plot but, suffice to say, all the characters’ lives are turned upside down. All three siblings are forced to reassess their situations and Father Pierre has an experience that’s the polar opposite to St Paul on the road to Damascus. In a tremendous monologue he explains God is a psychopath and that he will lead a new religion. His transformation is one of the highlights of this eventful play, although maybe he doesn’t change that much.

Exquisite comic timing

Rosie Sheehy in The Brightening Air. Photo: Manuel Harlan

There may be a message here, particularly relevant in a country that was dominated by the Catholic Church until this point in time, that there are always people willing to exploit others’ spiritual needs. Played with exquisite comic timing by Seán McGinley, Pierre’s behaviour to others is both hilarious and chilling. I should say, there are several moments in this play where a character’s needs are shaped or satisfied by their belief in mysticism or magic, including for example whether drinking certain water can make someone fall in love

So the characters’ dreams are crushed. The phrase ‘the brightening air’ is from a poem by WB Yeats and refers to the moment dreams meet reality. Another line from the great Irish poet springs to mind: ‘Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world’.

The play nears its end with another terrific monologue, this time from Billie, talking about the destructive nature of change, and the need for deep loving relationships. ‘In each other, we saw the face of God’ she says, and points out ‘how much of living is really just forgetting’.

Along with the laughs, there’s a lot to think about in this play, maybe a little too much, but It’s a fine piece of writing and wonderfully acted.

The Brightening Air can be seen at The Old Vic Theatre until 14 June 2025.

Paul was given a review ticket by the theatre

Click her to watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre reviews With Paul Seven

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Theatre review: Much Ado About Nothing – RSC

Freema Agyeman scores in football-themed Shakespeare


⭑⭑⭑

Freema Agyeman & Nick Blood in Much Ado About Nothing. Photo: Marc Brenner

Dear England is playing at the National Theatre, and now our second most subsidised theatre, the Royal Shakespeare Company, has a football themed play as well. But did Much Ado About Nothing score or was it a load of balls? And did Freema Agyeman from Doctor Who and New Amsterdam, and Nick Blood from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D as Beatrice and Benedick hit the back of the net?

First of all, spoiler alert, I will be talking about the plot of Much Ado About Nothing. You won’t be surprised that this production doesn’t set Much Ado About Nothing is set in modern times. Some people object to reimagining Shakespeare’s plays in other times and places. Personally, I find it can offer helpful insights, and this particular Shakespeare play needs them. Let me explain.

There are two parallel love stories in Much Ado About Nothing- a comic one which is probably what makes it one of the most popular of Shakespeare’s comedies, and a serious plot which can be a problem for a modern audience to comprehend.

Let’s look at the light-hearted element first- the relationship between Benedick and Beatrice, two people who are wary of hitching themselves to a partner. So, in all the time they’ve spent avoiding marriage, they’re become quite mature, and able to present a front of cutting cynicism. Shakespeare leaves no doubt there is something in each of them that is attractive to the other, except they won’t admit it, and they cover this by insulting each other. So the fun is in the way they’re eventually tricked by their friends into admitting that they do love one another, and then how love changes them. Benedick finds himself having to choose between his love and his comrade.

Freema Agyeman has only recently returned to theatre after a long spell acting on American TV but she is already building a reputation as a stage actor, and this performance will undoubtedly cement it. She speaks the lines beautifully. Her Beatrice gives as good as she gets, and offers apparent confidence to mask her inner emotions.

Nick Blood is a likeable Benedick with an appropriate swagger. However they don’t bounce off one another as much as you might hope: They should be like two Premiership footballers repeatedly tackling each another. Instead their dexterous verbal sparring never goes beyond a Sunday morning kickabout.

The darker plot concerns a young couple called Hero and Claudio- and it’s a can of worms, because it conjures a highly misogynistic society, which is hard to relate to, even though Shakespeare exposes the sexism among the men, and the unfair treatment of women.
We meet a veteran footballer Don John who’s essentially a mischief maker, someone who has no clear reason for causing trouble, and no complexity or depth. This makes him less interesting than many of Shakespeare’s villains, who are given motives or redeeming qualities. To be fair, this production does suggest that he’s jealous of his young rival Claudio, but that’s not pursued. Nojan Khazai plays him with an alpha male charm.
Don John uses deception- and this is a play that involves a lot of chicanery- to ensure that the relationship between two young fiancées- is torn apart on the eve of their wedding. 
He does this by tricking Claudio into believing Hero, far from being faithful, has a lover. As an audience, we find it hard to believe Claudio, even as a credulous young footballer (they’re not always renowned for their intellect) and her father, who both profess to love her, have so little faith in her. Even more unlikely is the moment when all is revealed (after even more trickery): he says ‘sorry’, she forgives him.
Daniel Adeosun gives a solid performance in the thankless role of Claudio. Eleanor Worthington-Cox does an excellent job as Hero. another difficult part as she is presented for much of the play as a voiceless victim- she doesn’t even defend herself against the false accusations. She does show a lively disposition in earlier scenes, where she is given more to do than in the original Shakespeare with some added songs, and at the end is given some added ambition.

Shoots but doesn’t score

It’s hard for a modern audience to comprehend such a misogynistic, male dominated society. So that’s the problem directors face: to find a modern parallel that we can relate to.  Michael Longhurst, fresh from his Shakespearean success with the David Tennant/Cush Jumbo Macbeth, has chosen the world of elite men’s soccer as the setting- not the English Premiership which surely is a league of gentlemen after Gareth Southgate’s tenure as England manager (I know because I’ve seen Dear England.) No, Italian football.
After all, Shakespeare’s play is set in Messina and perhaps the men’s behaviour fits, no doubt unfairly, with our stereotypical image of a certain kind of Italian male. Leonato, the owner of Messina FC, is the spitting image of Sylvio Berlusconi which usefully reminds us of his Bunga Bunga parties, one of which seems to be taking place on stage. It’s a fine characterisation of a self-centredh millionaire by Peter Forbes.
We can see that the position of women in this world is mainly as trophy wives and girlfriends. Beatrice is not one of them. She is an ex-footballer turned commentator, and we don’t need reminding of very recent occasions when misogyny was displayed against female football commentators.
So setting the play in the world of football is a good concept, and it works well initially. Unfortunately it never quite hits the back of the net, because as the play progresses, the football becomes less and less in evidence, and less convincing as the plot darkens.
Much Ado About Nothing. Photo: Marc Brenner

When you first enter the auditorium, you see what appears to be a stadium stretching into the distance. Thus far a triumph for designer Jon Bausor. However, the thrust part of the stage is dominated by a communal bath. Unfortunately this doesn’t work as well as you might hope. It’s used to comic effect on a few occasions but otherwise tends to get in the way of the cast moving round the stage.

The women are objectified and verbally abused by the men, the paparazzi and in comments on social media which are flashed up on the auditorium walls. So, quite a lot of misogyny going on there- with manipulated photos and fake news offering trickery that Don John could be proud of.
The actors playing the footballers are all physically fit, so they look like they could be soccer heroes, and the women are all very glamorous and could be wags. They give decent performances, speaking the words well, as you would hope from the RSC, and creating a world of casual offensiveness and sexist banter that comes naturally out of Shakespeare’s prose. What’s missing is a certain nastiness that the text demands; it’s as if they are passing the ball rather shooting at the goal.
The Watch- here seen as security staff- who inadvertently discover the truth of Don John’s plot are sometimes cut from the play. A lot of people seem to find their antics unfunny, but here Antonio Magro makes an excellent Dogberry, speaking his malapropisms with a dignified , obsequious demeanour.
I do have one quibble. Let me ask you a question. What do you enjoy most about Shakespeare? 
 I suspect that no matter how interesting the interpretation is, and how well it’s acted, at the end of the day, we’re going because we love Shakespeare’s language. Because, while he may steal his plots from here, there and everywhere, when he interprets that story for us, he has such an understanding of human nature, that he creates complex, interesting characters who express themselves through the most wonderful poetic language which conveys to us all the emotions that they feel and makes us feel them too. 
 And who might you think would protect that language more than the Royal Shakespeare Company?
So, I felt let down that this production of Much Ado About Nothing messed with Shakespeare’s language. Okay, not in a huge way, but to actually change some of the words for modern references and expressions, for example, bringing the word “twerking’ or ‘vaping’ into the text. 
I just feel it was plain wrong. I know it may sound stuffy and reactionary, and some will say, you’ve got to bring Shakespeare up to date for a modern audience and so on. But there are plenty of ways of doing that through the interpretation. The words are our one actual connection with Shakespeare, and why you shouldn’t mess with them, RSC!
As the final whistle blew, I felt the fun wasn’t fun enough, and the serious stuff not serious enough.
Much Ado About Nothing can be seen at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon until 24 May 2025. Buy tickets direct.
Paul paid for his ticket
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Theatre review: Backstroke with Tamsin Greig & Celia Imrie – Donmar Warehouse

Debut play prises open mother-daughter relationship

★★★★

Amiddle-aged woman and an old woman sit opposite each other at a kitchen table
Tamsin Greig & Celia Imrie in Backstroke. Photo: Johan Persson

Backstroke is a debut play receiving its premiere at the Donmar Warehouse. It’s about a daughter remembering and reassessing her relationship with her dying mother. And when this particular mother and daughter are played by Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig, you know you’re in for a treat.

It’s not a usual occurrence to have your first play premiered at the Donmar Warehouse with Tamsin Greig and Celia Imrie as the stars. Then again, Anna Mackmin is not your usual playwright. She is steeped in theatre. Having been to acting school, she became a director and for the last twenty years has been behind some of the most memorable productions on the London stage, including Dancing At Lughnasa, The Real Thing and Hedda Gabler at the Old Vic, and Di and Viv and Rose and The Divine Mrs S at Hampstead. And who better to direct her first play than Anna Mackmin herself?

This is not her first piece of writing. Her 2018 novel Devoured, inspired by her childhood with a hippy mother, was well received. So, perhaps the first thing to say about Backstroke is that it is a beautifully written drama. It uses the stage well, it gives the actors plenty to get their teeth into, and it tells a good story as it prises open the oyster of their relationship to reveal the unexpected pearl within.

We first encounter Beth, played by Celia Imrie, in a hospital bed, symbolically at the highest, most central point of Lez Brotherston’s set. She is being visited by her daughter Bo, played by Tamsin Greig. After about ten minutes of Bo talking to her silent mother, who has had a stroke, and to the various medical staff, I began to think ‘Celia Imrie’s got an easy role’. Then we got into the nitty gritty of the drama.

Triggered by the possibly imminent death of her mother, Bo’s thoughts travel to the past. As they do, Celia Imrie slides out of bed and walks down to the front of the thrust stage, into the kitchen where so many encounters between them took place over the years. We begin to learn about the tempestuous relationship between a mother who is very needy and a daughter who is expected to cater for those needs. There is love, there is attachment, and there is conflict as the play gradually unravels their complex ties.

No mothers are perfect but Beth is self-centred, avoids intimacy, and doesn’t really want to acknowledge that she is her child’s mother (‘don’t call me mummy’) even though this would-be free spirit needs the stability and companionship of her daughter. We experience Bo’s frustration when, for example, Beth hasn’t woken her, as promised, and she will be late for her first day at college. Then we, along with Bo, realise that it’s because she doesn’t want to part with her.

Parallel to this, Bo is tied up with the challenge of being a mother herself to an adopted daughter who is finding it difficult to settle into family and school. So, she is attempting to balance the needs of her daughter, her career and her dying mother. Beth, by the way, is hundreds of miles away, which means Bo has the guilt of not being able to visit often enough, and the guilt of being away from her daughter. A feeling which I’m sure will be familiar to many in the audience.

Uplifting and heartbreaking

Part of the power of this play is Anna Mackmin’s ability to take you inside the heads of these characters. Celia Imrie’s larger-than-life Beth talks in florid language that has the effect of creating a shield to keep her daughter at bay, but often there is a look of fear behind her eyes. Tamsin Greig’s Bo develops from childhood to middle age, her enthusiasm gradually dampened, her youthful protest turning to a whine. But always there is a nervous need to understand what’s going on in her mother’s brain. She frequently pauses to process events. Used to feeling frustrated, she is almost permanently open-mouthed, but has a warm smile that refutes her inherited dislike of the intimacy of touching.

Backstroke at the Donmar. Photo: Johan Persson

All the while, fragments of Bo’s memories of both her mother and daughter play on a large backdrop. I’m not normally a fan of mixing film with live drama but in this case the video designed by Gino Ricardo Green is highly effective in showing how memories are always with us and shape who we are.

When Beth’s brain starts to be affected by dementia, although some of the things she says are humorous, like ‘You’ve made your bed, now you can lie about it’, Bo, and we, soften in our feelings about her. Beth has never been able to help being the way she is.

The first act is a little too long but after the interval the play explodes into life. We learn that the relationship was not as one-sided as it first appeared. The episodes in their life together show us how the bond is mutual, and how Bo has much to be grateful to her mother for. When they dance together, choreographed incidentally by Anna Mackmin’s sister Scarlett, it is a joyous moment.

The ending is both uplifting and heartbreaking, as the most intimate moment between them when Bo was a child is resurrected in Beth’s last moments. A circle has been completed and, in an epilogue, Bo speaks movingly of what her late mother did for her. Tamsin Greig’s emotional delivery brought a lump to my throat.

Although her mother’s mortality is what prompts Bo’s memories of her, the play also touches on the process of dying itself. There is consideration of how we treat people at the end of life. The hospital staff shows us three approaches to patients who to them have no history, and, more to the point, no memory: there is the objective indifference of Georgina Rich‘s matter-of-fact doctor to whom Beth is just another unit; a nurse Carol, given a terrific sour-mouthed performance by Lucy Briers, who tries to impose her own moral agenda on the treatment; and there’s nurse Jill, convincingly played by Anita Reynolds, who reveals the heart beneath her patronising chirpiness. Inevitably, the mainly absent Beth is frustrated that the staff don’t understand her mother’s care needs in the way she does.

This is an extraordinarily good debut play.

Backstroke can be seen at the Donmar Warehouse until 12 April 2025. Buy tickets direct from the theatre.

Paul attended a preview and paid for his ticket.

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

 

 

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Theatre review: Unicorn with Nicola Walker, Stephen Mangan & Erin Doherty

Two plus one equals a challenging comedy


★★★★

Stephen Mangan, Nicola Walker & Erin Doherty in Unicorn. Photo: Marc Brenner

Unicorn is about a middle-aged couple played by Nicola Walker and Stephen Mangan who are attracted to the idea of introducing a third person into their relationship- in the form of a younger woman played by Erin Doherty.

This makes it a difficult play to review. Not because of some of the language- although that’s a problem too- but because so much of the play is about whether they will or won’t go ahead. I’ll do my best to talk about this adventurous comedy without giving away any spoilers.

Here are some things I can tell you about Unicorn. It’s funny, although the light-heartedness does give way to something deeper in the second half. I can also tell you it’s about emotional relationships rather than a simple threesome (if indeed a threesome is ever simple). And, even if it is about more than physical gratification, there is nevertheless much frank- and indeed filthy- talk about sex.

Having said that, if you were hoping to see these beloved stars in the buff, or were perhaps dreading the embarrassment of seeing bits of them that are normally covered up, there are no depictions of sex. They don’t even undress, well, Nicola Walker does take her shoes off. Frankly, it’s shocking enough to hear Nicola Walker and Stephen Mangan talking about sex in explicit four letter words- yes, even that word- without them actually doing it.

Our middle-aged couple still say they love one another but wonder if a third person might spice things up their sex life. Fortunately Polly, played by Nicola Walker at her most hesitant and nervously sensual, is a lecturer, and one of her mature but much younger than her students has the hots for her. And she feels the same.

Normally, if that’s the right word in this unusual situation, it’s difficult to find a young woman who wants a relationship with an older couple. (I’m not saying this from personal experience- it’s what we’re told in the play.) As rare as a unicorn, in fact. But fortunately, Kate, played by Erin Doherty, is interested, and so the story begins. The very word ‘unicorn’ may suggest a fantasy but we go with it because this is a scintillating script by Mike Bartlett, and these three actors, under James Macdonald’s direction, know exactly what to do with it.  Their comic timing is exquisite.

Erin Doherty nails the younger woman: frank, matter-of-fact and with a clear picture of what she wants. She talks loud and without hesitation. The generational gap is portrayed well. Stephen Mangan as Nick is especially good as an older man tying himself in knots as he tries to contain what he fears is stereotypical masculinity. He and Nicola Walker capture that respectful tone of the woke London middle class who are aware they shouldn’t offend or take risks, so beat about the bush and constantly retreat from what they really want.  ‘It’s entirely possible that on some level this is inappropriate,’ says Polly to Kate. Even when they kiss, all three contain any passion they might feel in favour of conversation.

So we journey through the first half continuing a will-they-won’t-they situation. At this point, I think I can add something to my plot summary. It might be a spoiler but I doubt you imagine this prevarication, funny as it is, could possibly continue for over two hours. In the second half, they do get together, but only after some significant turning points in all their lives.  We find that 30 year old Kate is increasingly the driving force in the potential three-way relationship, and we realise why. She comes to represent not only hope for the throuple but also a wider hope for humanity.

Nicola Walker & Erin Doherty in Unicorn. Photo: Marc Brenner

As we move into the dynamics of the menage-a-trois, and its ups and downs (no innuendo intended), the humour subsides a little in favour of more philosophical conversations. To summarise: we live in dangerous times, when the world and our bodies are threatened by pollution. We’re brought up on Disney happy-ever-after movies and bicycles made for two. So our primary choice of heteronormative coupling is tied up with this failed society. A willingness to try new, honest ways of living and loving could be the path to happiness and a better world.

It’s clear from the start that this particular arrangement is so rare that it is close to a fairy tale, a fairy tale that even features a unicorn. Then again,  children’s fairy tales are a way of tackling the challenges offered by a world that can seem dark and forbidding. I don’t want to say whether their happiness ultimately comes from their being all together or working out different kinds of relationships, but I certainly came out of the theatre feeling upbeat about the world.

Miriam Buether’s set is half of a dome, the other half being in effect the fourth wall. It occasionally concertinas up at the back to allow an entrance. The impression is that the three are contained within a cocoon, thus adding to the feeling that they are in a fantasy world. The backdrop is bathed in different colours, and sometimes Natasha Chivers‘ lighting design casts multiple shadows. I’m not sure if that’s to indicate the multiple possibilities of modern relationships or more mundanely to make the image of two or three people on stage more visually stimulating. There are few props- chairs or a sofa to sit on, a bed to lie on. Refreshingly, both designer and director take a discreet approach that lets the actors to do their job.

I certainly wouldn’t go see Unicorn if you’re hoping for an erotic evening, but if you take it as a fantasy delve into changing attitudes to relationships, then it’s both interesting and funny. If nothing else, it will get you talking, and who knows what that might lead to.

Unicorn can be seen at the Garrick Theatre until 26 April 2025.

Paul paid for his ticket.

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

 

 

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