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

April 13, 2023

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

April 11, 2023

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

April 6, 2023May 4, 2023

Visitors by Barney Norris – The Watermill – review

Threatened theatre produces a jewel of a play

★★★★

Tessa Bell-Briggs and Christopher Ravenscroft in Visitors. Pamela Raith Photography

The Arts Council has cut its annual funding to The Watermill Theatre in Newbury which will be a tragedy for UK theatre if they are no longer able to produce shows like last year’s Whistle Down The Wind, Bleak Expectations (soon to open in the West End), or their current production of Visitors.

Visitors was written by Barney Norris about ten years ago and has been revived with the author now directing. It is a sad but ultimately uplifting play about the long-lasting relationship of an elderly couple, one of whom is succumbing to dementia, contrasted with the rootlessness of newer generations. It is beautifully written, both in its construction and in its language.

After my recent visit to A Little Life where I was bombarded with blood, violence and video, it was something of a relief to be witnessing a play that relies on actors and words- pure but never simple. The Watermill has a small stage and the designers Good Teeth use it well to create a farmhouse sitting room made for two and, to the sides, a suggestion of the ripe wheat fields that were the business of the farm and now being symbolically harvested.

The occupants are Edie and Arthur, now well into their old age. In many ways, the play is a eulogy to a rural way of life that has been lost in our consumer-driven metropolitan world. They met as very young people and have adapted to each other in the same way as they have lived their lives, with a kind of make-do-and-mend. They may not have had the family or the holidays they would have liked, but they have happy memories, especially of a wedding on a beach. They have come to rely on one another and take strength from their shared experience. They talk, well Edie talks mainly, but now, as Edie puts it, her dementia has created a dam that holds back what she wants to think and say.

Barney Norris is clearly interested in the power of roots and tradition. His adaptation of Lorca’s Blood Wedding at Salisbury Playhouse in 2020 was firmly set in the community of Salisbury Plain. In Visitors, the Wiltshire farm has been in Arthur’s family for three generations, but the continuity that it, and the elderly couple who have lived there all their married life, represents is under threat. Their son Steve isn’t interested in taking over the farm and has pursued a career in insurance. A young carer, Kate, has been drafted in to help them in their old age but she is neither skilled nor certain to stay.

The restless attitude of the newer generations contrasts with the stoicism and acceptance of the older one. Steve is dissatisfied with his life and whose marriage is on the rocks. The millennial Kate is drifting aimlessly. As Edie says to her: ‘You’re unsure because you could be anyone, really, and you don’t know which life to have.’ Edie may wonder what other lives she might have led, but is content with the one she did.

If Steve and Kate are visitors to Edie and Arthur, Edie in her more lucid moments regards us all as visitors to the earth for the duration of our lives, and sees that we must make the most of it, which she fears Steve and Kate will not, given the illusion of choice that today’s rootless world offers.

As the play moves towards the inevitable closing of the door on Edie and Arthur’s life together, we learn more about all four characters.

An authentic portrait of old age

Edie is revealed to be well-read and quite a philosopher, and, in her use of language, a poet. Her brain may now be letting her down in her interactions with others but she sees the patterns of sunlight across the room and over the wheat fields, changing but eternal. Tessa Bell-Briggs as Edie seamlessly segues between warm awareness and drowning in dementia, while always retaining the sense of who she is.

Three characters sit in a circle chatting and laughing in a scene from Visitors at The Watermill Newbury April 2023 — Tessa Bell-Briggs, Patrick Toomey and Nathalie Barclay in Visitors. Pamela Raith Photography

Arthur is quiet and, like many men of that generation, not given to showing his emotions, which makes the moment all the more poignant when, contemplating the prospect of Edie going into a home, he breaks down in tears. Christopher Ravenscroft gives a deep performance as a shy, gentle man whose eyes twinkle with contentment and who is horrified when his lack of social skills causes him to say the wrong thing. It’s a portrayal so authentic, you feel you know him from somewhere.

Patrick Toomey plays the middle-aged, but yet to grow up, son. As we find out more about him, his initial crassness gives way to a sense that, despite his different life choices, he is like his father in his inarticulacy and social blunders.

Nathalie Barclay is Kate, the slightly on edge young woman with blue hair who finds temporary security by caring for his parents.

Despite how I have described the play, Visitors is celebratory rather than depressing. Yes, all life is temporary and usually ends badly, but Edie and Arthur have had a fulfilled life, made so by things that can’t be accounted for by economists and marketers, like tradition, love and acceptance. I thank Barney Norris for putting it on record before people like Edie and Arthur end their visit to our world and their way of life disappears forever.

Visitors is running at The Watermill until 22 April 2023. https://www.watermill.org.uk/

Paul was given a review ticket by the producer

Click here to watch this review on our YouTube channel

April 5, 2023April 6, 2023

James Norton in A Little Life with Luke Thompson – review

James Norton is a terrific choice for the lead role in Ivo van Hove’s production

★★★

Luke Thompson and James Norton, two actors in A Little Life, are seated on the ground looking at each other — Luke Thompson and James Norton in A Little Life. Photo: Jan Versweyveld

Director Ivo van Hove has made quite a bit about the trauma the audience for A Little Life will have to go through when they see A Little Life at the Harold Pinter Theatre or later at the Savoy. There are indeed pints of blood spilt as the central character played by James Norton self harms and attempts suicide. But, to me anyway, this was clearly stage blood, so not that disturbing. I believe the real trauma audiences risk is in their reaction to the detailed descriptions of the physical and sexual and emotional abuse suffered by a child, and the catastrophic effect it has on his adult life.

The little life in question is that of Jude played by James Norton. We see chronological scenes from over twenty years of his adult life starting at 30 years old. Within this narrative are flashbacks to his childhood in which the abuse he has suffered is revealed, up to a point where you may wonder how one person could be so unfortunate. It is probably best to regard the play as a fable about suffering to avoid a reality check.

Although the play is set in New York in modern times, it is deliberately isolated from the historic events and detail of modern life, and we know nothing of the background to Jude’s childhood. This has the effect of making the story more timeless, more universal.

What we learn in the course of the play is not only how child abuse is hugely damaging psychologically as well as physically but also how the love of those in his circle helps him to manage his adult life, and to heal emotionally, at least to some extent. But it is a harrowing journey, in which the past is never far away. His self disgust leads him to self harm and attempt suicide.

Jude’s saviours take the form of his three friends from college who have formed a lifetime bond. Exactly what attracted them to each other is unclear, but I assume it was more than the fact they all pursued careers beginning with ‘a’- artist, architect, actor and attorney, the latter being Jude’s profession. Although he needs them, we find out they need him too.

James Norton, who you may know as Tommy Lee Royce from Happy Valley, is a terrific choice for the lead role. He never changes his appearance from when he is an eight year old to a fifty year old. Yet, through his posture and his body language, he convinces as a child who trusts and is betrayed, and his face as an adult make you feel his pain as well as his indomitable niceness.

The other characters are less well drawn. Luke Thompson as his best friend Willem gives a solid performance, showing love, confusion and desperation in his open face.

The two other friends- JB, an insecure artist JB and Malcolm, an architect with puppy-like enthusiasm- are played by Omari Douglas and Zach Wyatt. His tormentors are all played by Elliot Cowan sometimes oily, sometime vicious, but all unredeemable, unsubtle villains.

Jude’s guardian angel Ana, someone who helped him but sadly died, continues to stay at his shoulder (literally) as a voice in his head encouraging and warning him. Nathalie Armin gives her character strength and warmth. Emilio Doorgasingh plays Jude’s concerned medical friend.

Best of all, Zubin Varla, who has just won an Olivier Award for Tammy Wynette The Musical and who was impressive in Fun Home at the Young Vic, plays his mentor and adoptive father with humour and tenderness.

Tolstoy said in Anna Karenina: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” And I think this is a clue to one of the failings of this play. The people who help the adult Jude are all nice, but, like happy families, it is difficult to make good, balanced people distinctive and interesting, compared with the unhappy person that is Jude.

Harold addresses the audience directly on a number of occasions to tell us about how to be a good parent, and indeed a good friend. There is quite of bit of exposition in this adaptation of Hanya Yanagihara’s book, almost as if we’re not trusted to draw our own conclusions.

We as an audience are commandeered into being part of Jude’s support group. It is stated explicitly near the end of the play but it is also implied from the start because there are three rows of audience at the back of the stage creating a traverse setting. This has the effect of making the actors closer to the audience, and the audience part of the play. It is as if simply by being there we are bearing witness to Jude’s suffering and giving him the love he needs.

A group of actors stand in a semi circle in a scene from A Little Life at the Harold Pinter Theatre in London 2023 — Luke Thompson, James Norton, Zubin Varla,Emilio Doorgasingh, Omari Douglas and Zach Wyatt in A Little Life. Photo: Jan Versweyveld

The set, lighting and video are designed by Jan Versweyveld. Most of the stage floor is painted light red like a faded pool of blood. There are some accoutrements of a home, soft seating, a kitchen area on one side, and a washbasin in the centre representing the bathroom that is the scene of Jude’s self harming and suicide attempts.

One thing that fascinated me was the smells: onions cooking, and the strong scent of Dettol used to clean up the spillages of blood- and there was a lot of symbolic cleaning up by those around him. This may have been meant to underline for us how strong Jude’s memories were of the smell of his abusers.

There is music from a live string quartet placed very visibly at the front of stalls. Written by Eric Sleichim, it is slow, piercing and haunting, evoking Jude’s edgy state of mind. The musicians deserve a credit and are Alison Holford, Eleanor Parry-Dickinson, Hazel Correa, and Alison d’Souza.

A video is projected continuously on the side walls. It is mainly in slow motion, as a camera winds its way through the streets of New York, suggesting I think Jude’s enervated mind, but it quickens and is covered in screen noise as Jude gets high on self harming. At one point it goes as red as the blood being shed.

The nudity is about humiliation and vulnerability

You may have heard that there is nudity in this production. The abuse that Jude suffers involves him being forced to strip naked on a number of occasions. This also happens sometimes when he is attempting suicide. So, if you were wondering, far from being erotic or sexy, the nudity is about vulnerability and humiliation. By contrast, when he gets naked for a scene of lovemaking, he remains under the covers, while his lover parades easily in the nude, showing the equality of true love.

When he is stripped naked to be abused, James Norton adopts a hunched pose that reminded me of Masaccio’s renaissance painting of Adam and Eve, who having lost their innocence are expelled from Eden; and when his friends carry him tenderly to a hospital bed after a suicide attempt, another iconic image from religious paintings came to mind, this time by Caravaggio and Michelangelo‘s images of Christ being tenderly carried by those that cared for him from the cross to his tomb. If these Biblical allusions are deliberate, they may help explain a dramatic ending that could be intended to evoke the entombment of Christ.

The production is nearly four hours long. Not that I was bored, but I did wonder whether the effect of the play would have been the same if it had been an hour shorter and therefore the experience more intense, or if there had been less horror-film blood, or if the self harming had been described or mimed- as the sexual abuse is. I say this because by the end I was less shocked than I think I would have been if more had been left to my imagination. But it’s not for a critic to try to rewrite a play, we can only describe what we saw and felt.

I did find some of Ivo van Hove‘s adaptation and production heavy-handed, but there is much to recommend. As a visceral description of child abuse, A Little Life is painful to watch. As a story of the power – and limits – of love, it is moving. And James Norton does give an extraordinary performance.

The italicised sentence at the end of paragraph 2 was added a few hours after the review was posted, for clarification.

A Little Life is performing at the Harold Pinter Theatre until 18 June 2023 and then transfers to the Savoy Theatre until 5 August 2023. Details from https://alittlelifeplay.com/

Paul purchased his ticket to see A Little Life

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

March 8, 2023May 4, 2023

Wodehouse in Wonderland – review

Robert Daws charms as the great comic writer

★★★

Production photo from Wodehouse in Wonderland February 2023 showing the actor Robert Daws as Wodehouse laughing and holding up a dry martini — Robert Daws in Wodehouse In Wonderland. Photo: Pamela Raith

There’s a lot to enjoy in this one-man play about PG Wodehouse, especially since the man in question is the very talented Robert Daws.

The world is divided between those who love PG Wodehouse’s books and those who hate them. Well, that’s not strictly true because there must be a large proportion of the world that has no opinion at all about him. But if you do have a positive view about the man known to his friends as Plum, I think you’ll like Wodehouse In Wonderland which I saw at the Haymarket in Basingstoke.

I say ‘think’ because, although there are many quotes from the great man’s books, this is not a play about Jeeves And Wooster, or Lord Emsworth. Instead, it’s a dip into the mind of the man himself, and Wodehouse alone on stage is not as funny as his books.

Then again, what do I know? I’m reminded of Plum’s opinion of reviewers: “Has anybody ever seen a drama critic in the daytime?” he said. “Of course not. They come out after dark, up to no good.”

For someone who seems quintessentially English, Wodehouse spent a lot of time in America. As a young man in the period after the First World War, he was there writing the lyrics to a number of successful musical comedies, working mainly with Guy Bolton and the great composer Jerome Kern. After the second world war, he took up permanent residence in the USA and never returned to England. And it is quite late in his life that we meet him in his home in New York State.

We’re treated to much Wodehouse wit, as he talks in letters to his beloved daughter Leonora (“without whose never-failing sympathy and encouragement this book would have been finished in half the time”), and to an unseen biographer who asks him earnest questions about the effect of his almost parent-less childhood on his writing.

William Humble’s script is certainly amusing, and Robert Daws is such a brilliant actor that he is able to capture the whole audience with a smile and an anecdote.

But compared to one of Wodehouse’s novels, this delightful play lacks one crucial element. As the man himself said: “If they aren’t in interesting situations, characters can’t be major characters.” In the first act at least, Wodehouse isn’t in an interesting situation. There is none of the great conflict that you get between say Jeeves and Wooster, nor the complex plots that Wodehouse spent weeks working out and that propelled his characters into ever more hilarious plights. Truth be told, unlike his characters, Wodehouse is not larger than life.

A delightful but not entirely successful attempt to pin down Wodehouse

Not only that, he erects a considerable defence to prevent anyone from discovering any interesting depths. He won’t allow his biographer- or us- to dip into more than the shallows of his mind. He once said: “It was not that I had any particular message for humanity. I am still plugging away and not the ghost of one so far, so it begins to look as though, unless I suddenly hit mid-season form in my eighties, humanity will remain a message short.”

So, writing a play about PG Wodehouse is a challenge, somewhat like keeping a souffle from sinking. William Humble only meets it fully when we get to the second act. It’s then that the twin tragedies of Wodehouse’s adult life are revealed. As he put it himself: “it’s always just when a chappie is feeling particularly top-hole, and more than usually braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with a bit of lead piping.”

Add to which, he was ostracised or, as he might have put it: “the supply of the milk of human kindness was short by several gallons”. We see, illuminated in flashes as it were, the depths to which he must have sunk, before pulling himself back up using the safety line of writing comedy.

Production photo from the play Wodehouse In Wonderland February 2023 shows the actor Robert Daws istting at a desk with a typewriter next a window with a sunny view — Wodehouse in Wonderland. Photo: Pamela Raith

And writing was his life. Whatever else there was going on, he worked hard at his typewriter, turning out three or four books a year. He appears frivolous and out of touch with the real world. Indeed, his critics describe him that way, and dislike the way he creates a bubble in which his characters and their stories exist. Yet, from the extracts that William Humble regularly inserts into the proceedings, we can tell that Wodehouse showed a level of craftmanship his contemporaries struggled to equal. His contortions of the English language are priceless and, even though his characters are not realistic, they are vividly real.

Oh, and he sings songs. I mentioned Wodehouse’s early success as a lyricist. In the 1920s, he was renowned as much as a writer of musical comedies as he was a comic novelist. We’re treated to quite a few of his songs in this play. I’m pleased to report Mr Daws has a fine voice.

It’s not easy to keep a show visually interesting when you only have one person on a stage and no special effects, but director Robin Herford injects a good rhythm into the production. The design by Lee Newby is just right. It’s a naturalistic reproduction of a study with a writing desk dead centre, in a bright and beautiful house where, metaphorically, the sun always shines.

To sum up, this is a slightly flawed play but still a pleasurable evening, made exceptional by the quality of Robert Daws’ performance. You can’t help but be charmed by him, as charmed as I imagine you would have been by meeting Plum himself.

This is a production that could easily run in the West End, where you would pay £100 to see it. On this tour of the UK, you can probably catch it for under £30. Top hole, I say.

Wodehouse In Wonderland is touring the UK until the end of April 2023. More details at cahootstheatrecompany.com/wodehouse-in-wonderland

Paul received a free review ticket from the producer.

Click to watch this review on YouTube

March 2, 2023May 4, 2023

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

February 27, 2023

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel – touring stage version – review

Golden Oldies Shine In This Gentle Comedy

★★★

Production photo from the 2023 touring stage production of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel showing some members of the cast standing next to others seated at a table — The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Photo: Johan Persson

You’re probably familiar with The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. The film of that name spawned a sequel and a reality TV show. Now there’s a play of that title currently touring the UK. Starring are three big names with a long history on stage and screen: Paul Nicholas, Hayley Mills and Rula Lenska. I won’t describe them as old, it’s simply that they’re the same age as old people.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is primarily about retired people and aimed at that market, but there’s no reason why a younger audience (by which I mean people under 60) shouldn’t enjoy it. It’s a story of the triumph of love and hope over adversity. When I worked in theatre, I remember the midweek matinees were very popular with retired people, so much so that one member of the front of house staff looking from the back of the auditorium at all the white hair, described the audience as the cotton fields. A description I was reminded of when I saw this touring show when it stopped off at Chichester Festival Theatre.

Yes, I am aware that I’m now one of them. So I do know first hand the challenges of getting older, not least of which is the fear of failing memory. And this play doesn’t help, because I found myself thinking ‘I don’t remember some of these characters or sub-plots from the film.’ Well, it turns out it wasn’t a senior moment I was having. Because, despite the title, this play is not based on the film you’ve seen. Like the film, it is inspired by These Foolish Things, a novel by Deborah Moggach. The play is certainly similar to the film and no worse where it differs.

The shared idea is that a number of retired Brits go to a hotel in India because it’s cheap- oh, and the weather is hotter than good old Blighty. They all have slightly different back stories which are slowly revealed, usually with a twist. Younger generations are represented by a mother and son who have falsely marketed their run-down hotel as being somewhat better than it is. The son is being pressured to marry for money so they can do it up. He would rather marry for love.

It’s as if the play has been fitted with a pacemaker during the interval

The play’s first act gets bogged down in the set-up. The consequence is that it moves at the pace of a 90 year old using a zimmer frame. It probably didn’t help that the actors had a lot of ground to cover on Chichester’s large thrust stage. I took my seat for the second act in trepidation but then the twists emerged and the characters took on new leases of life. It’s as if the play has been fitted with a pacemaker during the interval. And maybe a catheter too as joy, sadness and humour flow in abundance. There’s also a smattering of social commentary too, on India and its call centres and caste system, and on the British attitude to class and to care.

As their characters begin to see more purpose to their lives, the older actors begin to look brighter and move faster, showing that their first half entropy was just an act.

Production photo from the touring theatre production of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel in February 2023 showing the cast dancing on stage — The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel Photo: Johan Persson

Of the three stars, I found Hayley Mills the most impressive- investing her lines with clarity and urgency- as her character Evelyn came out of her shell. Rula Lenska was full of fizz as the never-too-old-to-have-fun Madge. I was disappointed with Paul Nicholas. He’s a fine actor and portrays the soft-spoken, retiring character of Douglas well enough but he doesn’t quite convince as a grey, brow-beaten husband. The fact is, he’s just too handsome, despite the disappearance of his golden locks, and there’s no concealing his natural vivacity.

The rest of the cast perform well. One of the characters talked of ‘adventure til dementia’ and it is a delight to see these mature actors- Eileen Battye, Richenda Carey and Andy de la Tour continuing to ply their trade and give us a first class example of why old people should not be written off. Of the younger actors, I particularly liked Nishad More as the put-upon Sonny, who displayed appropriate sheepishness in the face of his domineering mother Mrs Kapoor, played with gusto by Rekha John-Cheriyan.

Lucy Bailey directs this large ensemble with finesse and the set by Colin Richmond is just the right blend of the magnificent and the dilapidated. I would have loved to have heard more of the music composed by Kuljit Bhamra which conjured up both ancient and modern India.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is touring the UK with dates annnounced until June 2023 marigoldshow.com

Paul paid for his ticket.

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

February 15, 2023February 15, 2023

The Lehman Trilogy – review

Theatre at its most pure

★★★★

Production photo from the National Theatre production of The Lehman Brothers showing three actors holding their hands out — Michael Balogun, Hadley Fraser & Nigel Lindsay in The Lehman Trilogy. Photo: Mark Douet

Lehman Brothers Inc was the highest profile bankruptcy of the 2008 financial crash. Of course there were bigger investment banks in America that played an even bigger part in the collapse of the financial markets and many banks, in the UK as well as the US, ended up being bailed out with our money. But it was important that someone got punished and Lehman was not in the category of ‘too big to fail’.

We are all still suffering from that collapse and subsequent bailout, of course, but at least one good thing came out of it- The Lehman Trilogy. It began, as so many great shows have, at the subsidised National Theatre, went on to the West End then to Broadway and now it’s back in the West End, laden with Oliviers and Tonys, at the Gillian Lynne theatre. With a new cast. So do they measure up to the originals, and what is it that has made a play about a subject as dry as finance such a huge success?

The Lehman Trilogy asks the question, how did a company as important and powerful as Lehmans end up being so reckless and destructive. To find out we travel back to when Henry Lehman and his two younger brothers first came to America back in 1844.

It’s an epic story told on a large stage. At the centre is a large box in which the action takes place. Parts of it are glazed, and the inside is divided into spaces by glass. It is the kind of modern characterless glass office occupied by financial institutions everywhere. It is decorated with a desk, a boardroom table, and lots of boxes used for transporting files- memorably seen as sacked employees carried them out of the building.

We start with the moment Lehmans went bust. Everything that happens in the 164 years leading up to that moment takes place in that space, so we never forget where we’re heading. At the back and sides of the stage, designer Es Devlin has placed a semi-circular wall onto which projects appropriate landscapes that give us a visual context- the cotton fields of Alabama that provided the Lehmans with their first trading opportunity to the skyscrapers of New York.

Production photo from The Lehman Trilogy February 2023 showing an actor standing reading a newspaper with two other actors sitting each side of him — The Lehman Trilogy. Photo: Mark Douet

As I said, the scale of the story is epic, the set feels epic, yet amazingly, just three actors play not only those three brothers but the succeeding generations and everyone they come in contact with. They tell us the story, and act it out, sometimes without even carrying out the actions they are describing. At one point, a character says about himself ‘he adjusts his tie’ but he doesn’t actually do it. Our own imagination creates the epic.

Myriad characters come and go, often briefly but vividly sketched. The actors, without changing costumes, become children, brides-to-be, cotton farmers, and many more. This leads to a lot of comedy but it also means they never quite stop being, nor can we forget, those immigrant brothers who started it all.

It is the purest kind of acting that relies not on props or costumes but entirely on voice and body. They speak a rhythmic language that verges on poetry or perhaps more accurately rap. In fact, much of this play’s power comes from Ben Powers’ adaptation of Stefano Massini’s Italian original script.

It’s a Brechtian way of telling a story, interesting, funny and gripping but not emotionally involving, which is reinforced by it taking place within a glass box. So, we always see that this is a story not of a family but of American capitalism.

It is an acting tour de force from Michael Balogun, Hadley Fraser and Nigel Lindsay. There is one wonderful moment I remember when Hadley Fraser plays eight different potential brides in rapid succession. Or the same actor, who I would have to say was the first among equals, briefly plays a man described as someone whose body is built around his smile. And it is.

So, in three acts, we see the brothers committed to their Alabama community trading in actual goods- cotton- buying , selling and transporting it. Helping rebuild the cotton trade after a disastrous fire. At first, you admire their ability also to see disasters as opportunities.

The new generation born in America begin to forget their Jewish roots: shiva when the first brother dies lasts seven days, the next three days, then, so anxious are they not close the business, three minutes silence for the last of the brothers.

Money becomes all important. They no longer trade in something physical- they never see the coffee or iron or other commodities. They trade shares not products. As the new generations succeed the old, the Lehmans become shareholders not partners so they have much less to lose, and the risks become greater. After a period of regulation following the Wall Street Crash, the American idea of liberty, so inspiring but also so potentially damaging, re-emerges and the scene is set for the final disaster.

It’s a salutary tale that makes you admire these entrepreneurs, then despise the heartless money grabbers they become, while laughing at the sheer lunacy of ithe world of finance.

Production photo from the National Theatre production of The Lehman Trtilogy February 2023 showing actor Hadley Fraser dancing on a table — Hadley Fraser in The Lehman Trilogy. Photo: Mark Douet

The third act tails off a little as the final Lehman dies, without any of them suffering the consequences of their actions. It is others that take the company and the financial world over the edge. But not without a , as they found out when the music stopped moment when a metaphor of dancing sees the last of the Lehmans, again it’s Hadley Fraser, no longer making decisions but simply standing on a table doing the twist, as the computer coding spins across the back projection, showing the algorithms that have taken over from human beings, making him and his colleagues more and more money but taking them further and further from the real world. It is literally dizzying, as dizzying as the bankers found it trying to understand their own complicated and ultimately worthless financial packages, which became apparent when the music stopped. A special word of praise to the video designer Luke Halls.

This may not be a story that you can get emotionally involved in, but this is Theatre at its finest, thanks to director Sam Mendes and his writers.

If you haven’t already seen it, don’t miss this opportunity.

The Lehman Trilogy can be seen at the Gillian Lynne Theatre until 20 May 2023

Paul was given a review ticket by the producers

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

February 15, 2023May 4, 2023

Phaedra with Janet McTeer – National Theatre- Review

Janet McTeer excels in a dramatic tale of forbidden love by Simon Stone

★★★★

Production shot from Phaedra at the National Theatre in February 2023 showing the cast standing in a sitting room — Phaedra at the National Theatre. Photo: Johan Persson

On the whole, I loved Phaedra by Simon Stone at the National Theatre‘s Lyttelton auditorium. There was just one element I didn’t like. First, let me tell you what was so good about it.

Don’t worry if you’re not keen on Greek tragedy. This is not a production full of togas and choruses. It’s a bang-up-to-date tale of a politician who has an affair. The essential story of Phaedra is still there, as told in Ancient Greece by Euripides, in Ancient Rome by Seneca the Younger, in the middle of the last millennium by Racine, and many times over since including relatively recently by Sarah Kane.

It’s always been a tale of forbidden love, originally of a princess falling in love with her stepson, but in this new version, the young man is already in his forties and he’s the son of a former lover. So, not a stepson, and certainly not a young man being taken advantage of. I guess most of us can understand the way love, or lust, can overtake reason. The forbidden love is, on the face of it, that of someone whose passionate feelings lead her into infidelity- simple adultery, although not so simple, as it turns out.

Our protagonist, called not Phaedra but Helen, is a shadow cabinet minister. You might think her forbidden love is not so much for someone other than her husband but her love for herself. This play is dominated by an examination of a certain kind of liberal middle-class people who have no moral code beyond what they feel.

We first meet a family bickering over breakfast. A teenage son is uncontrolled in his language or subject matter in front of and towards his parents. The older daughter, just visiting, is not much less restrained. The affable father jokes with them about sex. It seems to be a family without boundaries. You may or may not approve of the liberal principle of treating the children as equals, as quasi-grown-ups but, in this case, the children seem to have become self-centred and lacking in respect. Helen, the mother, leads by example. This is brought home by the way they speak over one another, barely listening. You may find this scene appalling or laugh-out-loud funny or both.

The self obsession extends beyond family to the rest of the world. Helen can be seen as the patronising face of first world- imperialist, even- attitudes towards other cultures. For example, when Helen spent time in Morocco, she didn’t bother to learn the language, and she hasn’t taken the trouble to find out where her black, best friend was born.

Production shot from Phaedra at the National Theatre in London February 2023 showing Mckenzie Davis holding Assaad Bouab's face and staring into his eyes — McKenzie Davis and Assaad Bouab in Phaedra. Photo: Johan Persson

Then Sofiane arrives. He reminds Helen of his father- her past Moroccan lover, a man who died in a car crash and whose letter to his son provides an intermittent sub-titled voiceover expressing hope and regret. Sofiane makes clear he reciprocates the feelings Helen has for him. It’s not just that he’s like his father physically, he too is a political activist and that reminds her even more of how she not only has traded physical excitement for a boring marriage but has given up the thrill of activism for the compromise of party politics. I don’t need to tell you how often an older person has an affair to try to recapture lost youth.

Despite changes to the plot and the modern setting, this is still a Greek tragedy in its structure. I won’t go any further with the story, except to say Simon Stone has retained those ancient ideas that people who misbehave get punished, and revenge moves through the generations. So, there are many twists, and it does all end badly. In fact, the ending is very dramatic, almost melo-dramatic.

It’s a well-told story with much comedy and many great set scenes. One in particular takes place in a restaurant where the family and close friends are gathered for Helen’s 60^th birthday. Revelation follows revelation in a scene that wouldn’t go amiss in a farce, with glasses smashing, home truths spewing out, and Helen all the while lamenting loudly about the distraction from her celebration.

Production shot from Phaedra at the National Theatre in February 2023 showing Janet McTeer leaning against a glass wall — Janet McTeer in Phaedra. Photo: Johan Persson/

The acting is marvellous. Janet McTeer is so on point as this totally self-absorbed politician. She talks at speed, with passion and intensity, and expresses her feelings so naturally, that you forget she’s acting. The script gives her the platform for what will surely turn out to be one of the acting performances of the year.

Paul Chahidi as her husband Hugo is terrific too in the role of this put-upon husband and father who manages to keep afloat with jokes and diplomacy. He’s charming and likeable, but also exudes insignificance. You can see why he appealed to the dominating Helen, but also why she was ready to be unfaithful to Sofiane, played by the handsome, charismatic Assaad Bouab.

All the cast impress but a special word for Akiya Henry as Helen’s friend and fellow shadow cabinet member Omolara. She portrays an easy-going person who seems to take Helen’s ignorance of her background and her mockery of her religion with good humour, but you sense an iron core that emanates from her moral grounding (something Helen lacks) and she has the kind of painted smile that conceals an objective, calculating mind.

Canadian screen star Mckenzie Davis makes an impressive stage debut, riding a rollercoaster of emotions as Helen’s daughter Isolde.

No thinking outside the box

So what didn’t I like? The design. All the action takes place within a revolving glass box . This was an interesting coincidence because only the night before I saw Phaedra, I saw The Lehman Trilogy which also features a revolving glass box. But, whereas the latter worked, this didn’t. The effect is perhaps of making the audience feel like the Greek and Roman Gods who would look down on humans and their folly. Or it could suggest the way in which the characters are trapped, in this case in a cycle of betrayal and revenge. The many uprights may have been intended to reinforce the idea of the characters being in a prison but they too often obscured the faces of the actors. It was a shame not to see the agonies their characters were going through.

The biggest problem caused by the design is that every change of scene took forever. Sometimes the scene change was longer than the following scene! When you’re dealing with a raised box with awkward access and egress, everything takes much longer than it would if the action had taken place on the stage floor and scenery could be rolled on and off easily. The extended blackouts would have been intolerable but for Stefan Gregory’s hypnotic sound which played as we waited.

Designer Chloe Lamford’s talent is beyond question, and the sets within the box did look fantastic. It’s just the box that didn’t work. I don’t want to lay all the blame at her door because it could well be that she was simply doing what director Simon Stone wanted. The last production by him that I saw was Yerma at the Young Vic, and that too took place behind glass walls, so maybe it’s his thing.

Phaedra performed at the National Theatre until 8 April 2023

Paul received a free review ticket from the producer.

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