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

December 28, 2022May 4, 2023

Emma Corrin in Orlando – Garrick Theatre – Review

Crown star Emma Corrin is mesmerising in comedy about gender freedom

★★★★

Emma Corrin as Orlando at the Garrick Theatre 2022 — Emma Corrin in Orlando. Photo: Marc Brenner

It may be nearly a hundred years since Virginia Woolf wrote the novel Orlando, but it’s only todat that our society has caught up with its story about the fluidity of gender, desire and time. As the novel, quoted in the play, says: ‘If you can just live another century.’

Emma Corrin, probably best known as young Princess Diana in The Crown, plays the eponymous protagonist. When the play begins, Orlando is a young male aristocrat in the court of Queen Elizabeth I.

In our first encounter with him, we catch a glimpse of a penis. It’s a startling and funny moment that sets the scene for the rest of the evening. His trusty servant-come-dresser-come-tutor-come-guardian angel Mrs Grimsditch tries to get him to put his trousers on. Deborah Findlay is funny, warm and down-to-earth, providing a necessary foil for Emma Corrin who gives a mesmerising performance as the romantic, confused, freedom-loving hero. The symbolic trouser-wearing is a motif throughout the play.

Even if they prefer the non-binary pronoun ‘they’, Emma Corrin, of course, doesn’t have a penis. It’s a theatrical prop. Before long, Orlando has lost that organ and mysteriously become a woman, as well as moving on many years to the court of James I without getting much older. To confirm the sex change, we catch a glimpse of her breasts, which I think were real but this is theatre, a world of pretence, so who knows?

In fact, theatre is a theme of this play. It moves through many theatrical styles as Orlando navigates from Elizabethan (a hint of Shakespeare) to Jacobean to Regency to Victorian times to the gradual liberation of the modern era. This substitutes for the literary journey that Orlando undertakes in the original novel. Theatre is not as effective a barometer for the changing attitudes to women, but it works nicely as a metaphor for being whatever you want to be.

To support the theme, Michael Grandage and designer Peter McKintosh have created a set that looks like a bare stage with brickwork and a large metal door. It’s populated with the trappings of a theatre- ropes and counterweights, a large costumes basket, a clothes rail, a stepladder and more. The set frequently features a bed that starts large and becomes much smaller in Victorian times (the worst of all periods for women). Having set up the theme, I think Neil Bartlett could have put it across more strongly in the script. There seems to be no equivalent of the constantly changing book that Orlando is writing and that provides a unifying thread through the novel.

From the start, this dramatised version offers the kind of inventive freewheeling imagination found in the original novel, because no less than nine Virginia Woolfs appear, speaking together and separately, to tell us the multi-faceted story of Orlando.

View of Emma Corrin's naked back in Orlando at The Garrick Theatre London — Emma Corrin in Orlando. Photo: Marc Brenner

Much as she liked being a man, Orlando likes being a woman more and that’s how they remain, as the play develops into a romp through three centuries of the history of women in our society. And just as there are many different Virginia Woolfs, Orlando discovers there are many different ways we can desire. They also realise that time is elastic rather than linear, and that (spoiler alert) life needs to be enjoyed go the full in the here and now. It is above all a story that lauds the freedom of poetic imagination above the prosaic.

Orlando finds out what it is to be a woman, an experience made more shocking by them having been a man. They experience the disturbing effect a bare leg can have on heterosexual men and the way misogynistic men subjugate women. They realise that women can love each other, that love and betrayal go hand in hand. They find that men and women can dress up as each other for practical as well as sexual purposes.

Emma Corrin and Deborah Findlay stand shoulder to shoulder in a scene form Orlando at the Garrick Theatre 2022 — Emma Corrin and DEborah Fidnlay in Orlando. Photo: Marc Brenner

Orlando is an everyperson rather than an intrepid hero or overpowering genius. Emma Corrin is tremendous at portraying the inarticulacy of the character, the frequent lack of understanding, but also the enthusiasm and optimism. They dominate the stage with their wide eyes, knotted features, hesitant speech, squirming body and sparkling smile. It’s a performance that is both funny and sad, and thoroughly engaging. As with the relationship between Orlando and Mrs Grimsditch, Emma Corrin’s youthful exuberance is balanced by the twinkly-eyed experience of Deborah Findlay.

In a play where gender is fluid, an entirely female cast bar one takes on all the roles, which of course leads to some mockery of men. Lucy Briers memorably plays a blustering naval officer who moves like a bantam cock. She also provides a haughty Queen Elizabeth.

Although writer Neil Bartlett couldn’t hope to convey the depth and complexity of Virginia Woolf’s novel, he does pick the important themes and moments, and by introducing the author onto the stage we get to hear direct quotes from the novel in her stream-of-consciousness way of writing.

Missing, in this fast moving 80 minute play, were the deeper relationships. Orlando’s first love Sasha whom they never forget, is played with verve by Millicent Wong, and their last Marmaduke is given a sensitive portrayal by Jodie McNee. But these lovers flash by as we skim across the surface of Orlando’s life. Their journey is not always pleasant, but it is ultimately optimistic.

Orlando is an entertaining evening thanks in no small part to Emma Corrin who displays all the signs of being a great star of the stage.

Orlando is playing at the Garrick Theatre in London until 25 February 2023.

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

December 3, 2022

Elton John’s Tammy Faye – Almeida Theatre – review

Like Tammy Faye herself, the musical by Elton John, Jake Shears & James Graham is good but flawed

★★★★

Actors Andrew Rannells and Katie Brayben stand together singing a song in a scene from Tammy Faye the musical at the Almeida Theatre — Andrew Rannells and Katie Brayben in Tammy Faye

The music for Tammy Faye the musical is by Elton John. It’s hard to tell at one listen how catchy the tunes are but they’re in the style of his glam rock heights and a few certainly get the heart racing. His lyricist is Jake Shears of Scissor Sisters fame. He does the job of illustrating what’s going on but on first hearing the lyrics are sharp but without any of the unexpected words or rhymes that you find in the very best.

The book by James Graham is funny and revealing. He’s maybe a little too interested in the story of the rise and fall of TV evangelists in 1980s America than that of Tammy Faye herself, despite it being the most human of tragedies.

James Graham clearly believes in the adage “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” So, this musical is another example of him giving us a history lesson and telling us why it’s important.
In This House, he told us about what happened behind the scenes in 1979 during a minority Labour government. In Ink, he wrote about the rise of the Murdoch-style tabloid. In Labour Of Love, he examined the last few decades of the Labour Party.

His most recent play Best Of Enemies, which has just opened in the West End (I gave it a 5 star review when it premiered at the Young Vic a year ago), tells us about two what we would now call political pundits who faced up to one another in the first popular TV debates in America back in 1968 (when President Nixon was elected). He showed that it sowed the seeds of today’s polarisation between the liberal left and the conservative right.

In Tammy Faye, he again goes back to the early days of television and the rise of the conservative right. Evangelists, following in the footsteps of Billy Graham, were inspiring masses of people in churches and arenas with their fiery sermons. Then they discovered television and in the 70s and 80s became known to millions who paid massive amounts of money to their churches, a lot of which they pocketed. More importantly, perhaps, is their association with politics in America.

I thought Presidents had ended their speeches to the nation with ‘God Bless America’ since time immemorial but I learned from this musical that President Nixon was the first to use it. Prior to that, Presidents carefully stuck to the constitutional requirement to keep church and state separate.

The evangelists expanded on this, with the help of Ronald Reagan, to create the so-called Moral Majority and a Christian right. One evangelist Pat Robertson, played in this production as a smarmy snake by Nicholas Rowe, even put himself forward as a potential Republican Presidential candidate. Ever since then, the Republican Party has relied on the Christian right to deliver them substantial numbers of votes, and has tailored its policies accordingly. So, the establishment of women’s and gay rights has been slowed down, and, in the case of access to abortion, reversed. So, very relevant to today’s world.

Anyway, that’s the history lesson, and you really wish James Graham had been your history teacher in school. The characters he creates are funny and frightening at the same time. Take the evangelist Jerry Falwell, Tammy’s nemesis. He is portrayed as a humourless, negative, mean-spirited man with narrow eyes, a dead voice and a hangdog expression. In one of the many funny lines, it is said he didn’t die of heart failure, he lived with it. It is actually hard to believe this character could evangelise anyone but the brilliant performance by Zubin Varla sends a chill through the auditorium.

Dancers on stage in a scnee from Tammy Faye by Elton John — Tammy Faye the musical

Tammy herself is seen rising from a tacky Christian puppet show to faltering TV presenter to the star of America’s biggest Christian channel, and the founder of a Christian theme park (“like Disneyland but with better people”).
Of course, it’s her husband Jim Bakker who initially gets top billing, because the evangelical Christians believed that a woman’s place is in the home or, if not, as a support for her husband. All the evangelical men we meet behave badly, eventually succumbing to pride, greed, adultery or some other sin. Her husband too lets her down.

He’s played by American actor Andrew Rannells who is extremely funny whether he is being nervous at being on TV, pompous when he believes himself to be in control, or snivelling at his failure.

Tammy’s star shines because she is not the stereotype mousey housewife. She is bright in brain, eyes and dress- great glittering costumes from Katrina Lindsay by the way. She is witty, and she’s compassionate to the point of crying on a regular basis. It takes someone exceptional to play a funny, warm woman who can also belt out high octane songs. This production has such a performer in Katie Brayben who has a beautiful voice and powerful lungs, and can hold the entire audience in her hands. Even when she is brought down by her only too human failings, we continue to love her because she exudes goodness and humility and humour.

What really sets her apart, other than being a woman in this man’s world, is that, while the others preach hate, she preaches love. Her fellow evangelists are homophobic and consider AIDS to be a plague sent by God. She says Christians should love everybody. She brings people onto the TV show who would normally be persona non-grata to evangelicals, including most famously a gay pastor who has AIDS. This occupies a small amount of the show but is immensely moving.

But this isn’t a play, it is a musical and so stands or falls on its music. Elton John is experienced at writing musicals. He has had hits with The Lion King, Aida and of course Billy Elliott. He knows how to integrate the music with the plot so that it keeps the story moving and adds to its depth. You could easily imagine songs like If Only Love, which is a beautiful ballad, Empty Hands, If You Came to See Me Cry or Right Kind Of Faith slotting neatly into his 1970s songbook, (though perhaps not on a greatest hits album). They are stirring and often accompanied by a large chorus line of dancers, choreographed by Lynne Page. However, none of the songs are quite showstoppers, except maybe the finale See You In Heaven which certainly gets people bouncing in their seats.

Bunny Christie’s set is just right. She leaves plenty of room for the actors to move on a relatively small stage but At the back is a set of 25 identical openings that act as TV screens but are also windows out of which characters poke their heads to contribute to and comment on the on-stage activity. These include, hilariously, the Pope and the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The director is Rupert Goold, who is the Almeida’s Artistic Director. You can see his hand in making this such a slick, punchy musical.

So why isn’t it a five star musical? I think the problem is that, interesting as the story of the rise and fall of the male TV evangelists is, it’s not that engaging. Yet so much time is spent on them that the central character of Tammy ends up being shortchanged. She and Jim are clearly fascinating, tragic people but they’re not explored enough, which meant I wasn’t able to get fully engaged with their story either. So, like Tammy Faye herself, this musical is very good but slightly flawed.

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

Tammy Faye performed at the Almeida Theatre until 3 December 2022

November 23, 2022May 4, 2023

The Sex Party – Menier – Review

Terry Johnson’s new play about ‘Swingers’ is a mess

★★

Man and two women in conversation in a scene from the play The Sex Party — John Hopkins, Lisa Dwan and Molly Osborne in The Sex Party. Photo: Alistair Muir

It’s hard to describe how disappointed I was by my visit to the Menier Chocolate Factory to see The Sex Party. In the past, I have laughed at and thoroughly enjoyed plays by Terry Johnson, from Insignificance and Dead Funny to the recent Prism, but The Sex Party, both written and directed by Mr Johnson, turns out to be a very po-faced comedy.

There’s no sex and not much partying. But that’s not why I was disappointed. I fully expected Terry Johnson to be dissecting the party-goers rather than, metaphorically, taking off his undies and joining in. It had hints of the play it could been, one that used laughter to skewer middle-class liberal hypocrisy, and provoked thoughts about gender and sexuality. Instead, The Sex Party is so sensitive about doing and saying the right thing, all the light-heartedness has been sucked out of it.

At every turn, something else is thrown in to expose the limits of the apparent libertarianism of the people who are taking part in this orgy. So thick and fast do they come, that you hardly have time to consider the implications of one point, before we move on to the next one, until you wonder how much more will be loaded onto the ship before it sinks. Add to which, the play’s characters are just too lightweight to carry its heavyweight themes.

The play is entirely set in Tim Shortall’s naturalistic set which wonderfully recreates a kitchen in affluent Islington. Now, I know it’s not unusual for people at a party to gather in the kitchen, but there was meant to be an orgy taking place. That was through the door to the right. There was also a door to the left leading into the garden. A perfect set-up for a French farce, you might think. Think again. No, this is about what happens in the kitchen.

That’s where we meet all the couples. That’s where we learn about their relationships, and what happens when sexual permissiveness puts those relationships to the test. And that’s not the only trial these party-goers face.

man and two women in conversation in a scene from the play The Sex Party at The Menier Theatre — Molly Osborne, Jason Merrells & Lisa Dwan in The Sex Party. Photo: Alistair Muir

So, couples start to arrive. The host Alex is friendly and organised but somewhat world-weary and dissatisfied- and reluctant to leave the kitchen. Jason Merrells is very good at portraying that point when a mature man is going from craggy to seedy. His much younger partner Hetty, played by Molly Osborne, is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and looking forward to lots of sex with lots of men. Jake and Gilly, played by John Hopkins and Lisa Dwan, are first timers and are there to watch and maybe have sex with each other, but not with anybody else. However, it seems Gilly is keener to experiment than uptight Jake, but she needs a lot of alcohol, as do most of the characters.

In an interview with Terry Johnson in the programme, he talks of the need to get a big laugh in early, so the audience knows it’s a ‘laughing audience’. The play succeeds in that respect when Gilly says that her safe words during sex are ‘Don’t stop’.

Other couples- and more very good actors- follow. Jeff is played by the great Timothy Hutton. What a coup to get this Oscar-winning film actor and splendid stage performer to make his London debut in this play. His character is , and Mr Hutton is magnificent in the role of a rich, right-wing American. He and his plain talking Russian wife Magdalena, played with a heavy accent by Amanda Ryan, are both experienced partygoers. The insults this couple throw at each other certainly liven up the evening, but then, insulting each other turns out to be par for the course for all the guests.

The final couple are Tim, high on drugs, and Camilla, an uptight radical feminist, played by Boris Johnson lookalike Will Barton and Kelly Price. I don’t think we ever find out what they have in common, except perhaps that he likes to be dominated and she likes to have the keys to the cage.

So, they’re there to take part in an orgy. But we’re not. It’s clear we’re not here to be titillated, nor to exploit these actors. There’s no sex going on in the kitchen: a little bit of kissing, but no other physical contact. And, whatever might be going on elsewhere, there’s no nudity. The women do wear lingerie, and two of the men bare their chests, but that’s the extent of it. This is a serious comedy.

A major problem with this play is that, with the possible exception of the host Alex, all these characters are caricatures. They all seem like they’re from a 1960s bedroom farce. I suspect this is a deliberate ploy by Terry Johnson, so that our expectations can be eventually confounded. The difficulty is, when it seems like they’re only there for the laughs, it is extremely hard to believe in them, or their situations.

Act One seems to go round in circles, arriving again and again at the same question of will they, won’t they do whatever it is they are arguing about doing, or not doing.

An aggressive man is held back in a confrontation with a trans woman in a scene from the play The Sex Party — John Hopkins, Timothy Hutton, Kelly Price & Pooya Mohseni in The Sex Party. Photo: Alistair Muir

Then at the end of act one, the arrival of Lucy, a single person, changes everything, because Lucy is a trans woman. And to the great credit of the production, she is played by a trans woman Pooya Mohseni, who is an excellent actor and brings elegance and sensitivity to the role. So act two resumes with the gang cross-examining Lucy but soon the situation is reversed as the play explores the attitude of these heterosexual cis men and women’s toward sex with a trans woman. The limits of their liberal views are severely tested.

In that interview I mentioned, Mr Johnson says: ‘ Everyone is very careful now. I was full of resentment about it before I took this play on. But I’ve had to adjust to a whole new vocabulary and attitudes.’ Well, he certainly has. The play feels sanitised. Even innuendoes are given short shrift. I understand that many sexual jokes that once had people rolling in the aisles may now be considered offensive, but good comedy is grounded in the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be. I find it hard to believe that a largely middle-aged and often nervous set of people at a sex party wouldn’t have made the occasional double-entendre. Still, perhaps we should be thankful that we were spared the ‘thank you for coming’, ‘thank you for having me’ kind of humour.

I think The Sex Party could have worked well as a play, if it had been less concerned about causing offence, and if it hadn’t tried to shoehorn every gender and sexuality issue you can think of into its two-and-a-bit hours. I’m exaggerating, of course, but here are a few examples: a reference to trans women competing in women’s sport events is lobbed in and batted out within seconds; there’s an interesting but fleeting moment when it’s suggested that although the women appear to be enjoying the freedom of choosing their lovers, the men may still be calling the shots; someone reads out a list of the many genders we can identify with in our modern world that is so tedious, the play loses all momentum. By the time two more serious incidents occurred, instead of taking in the implications of them, I was wondering how much more would be stacked on and taken away from this Jenga of a play.

It also ties itself in knots. There’s a moment in the first act, a kind of precursor to the transgender debate of the second act, when it’s pointed out there are no black people at the party. I thought this could have been explored further but the play moved on, leaving me, at least, to ponder the irony that there are no black actors in the cast.

Every so often there were noises off in the form of loud bangs. I know it was probably a loose door but I couldn’t help wondering if it was the sound of so many half-baked ideas clunking to the floor.

The Sex Party can be seen at the Menier Chocolate Factory until 7 Jnuary 2023

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

November 9, 2022May 4, 2023

Marvellous @sohoplace – review

★★★

Michael Hugo and Suzxanne Ahmet Marvellous @sohoplace — Michael Hugo and Suzanne Ahmet in Marvellous

Marvellous, the opening production at the West End’s newest theatre @sohospace, is the story of Neil Baldwin. You may have seen the award winning BBC film of the same name. In which case, you will know about Neil, a man with a learning disability, who, thanks to his sheer determination and happy disposition, became an honorary graduate of Keele University, a clown in a circus, and kit man and mascot for Stoke City football club, as well many other honours including a British Empire Medal.

His story is uplifting, and this play, which originated at the New Vic Theatre in Newcastle-under-Lyme does him justice. It not only recounts the major events of his life, it does so in a way that reflects the anarchic approach of Neil himself.

Thanks largely to his mother, Neil has never accepted any limitations because of his disability. He simply goes and asks, or sometimes goes without asking. accordingly, he applies to be the manager of Stoke City. He doesn’t get that job but he persists and is taken on by the appointed manager Lou Macari as someone who can and does boost morale.

Similarly he rolls up at Keele University where his mother works and starts welcoming students. He is never formally employed there but he is elected a life member of the students union and 50 years later is celebrated with an honorary degree.

Despite his confidence, there are moments when his disability is a cause for discrimination. He is unpaid and treated badly by the circus owner. But, when he’s bullied at school or later at work, he takes it in his stride and gets his own back with a practical joke.

This is a form of theatre that steps outside the restrictions of a formal stage play and makes the audience and the creation of the drama part of the show. So, from the start, the actors gather to construct a play about Neil Baldwin and within minutes Neil, or an actor playing the part of ‘Real Neil’, appears from the audience and becomes an active participant in its creation. This is interesting because Neil himself was involved in the making of this play. And, as we find out at the end, the real Real Neil is actually present, sitting in the Stalls.

The cast of Marvellous on stage at @sohoplace theatre November 2022 — Marvellous @sohoplace Photo: Craig Sugden

So he- the character Real Neil- is consulted and increasingly shapes the play that is apparently being created before our eyes. Planned scenes are scrapped, new interpretations introduced. In keeping with his nature, Neil is determined that there should be no serious stuff, keep it happy is his motto.

Nearly all the actors are called upon at one stage or another to play Neil, indicating perhaps his many roles in life. By the second act, Real Neil is playing himself. And what a superb actor Michael Hugo is. He mimics Neil’s characteristicly slow speech, and offers us recognisable twinkling eyes and mischievous grin.

The other actors are also very talented and play a multitude of characters. Alex Frost, Gareth Cassidy, Daniel Murphy and Shelley Atkinson (who was standing in for Charlie Bence), kept us amused with their multitude of accents and their physical comedy. Jerone Marsh-Reid is a brilliant clown and has a breathtaking ability to fall crashing to the ground. Suzanne Ahmet is a commanding presence as Neil’s mother.

The play is packed with displays of stage skills. The slo-mo replays of football tackles are hilarious. Neil has a Mary Poppins-style bag from which most of the props appear (thanks to much activity understage). There are copious custard pies and other forms of slosh including spraying the audience with water and foam. In fact, audience participation is de rigour.

The problem with this show is, the longer it goes on, a play which is at first quick-witted and fast-moving, begins to try too hard to get laughs. It’s as if director Theresa Heskins, who also gets a co-writing credit with Malcolm Clark and of course Neil Baldwin, is throwing in everything but the kitchen sink (well actually there is a kitchen sink of sorts). I was almost expecting a pantomime dame to appear. And in addition to the forced fun, it becomes, by the end, overly sentimental. All of which meant I was less involved than perhaps I should have been.

Behind the comedy, there are some serious points about disability discrimination but also that disability need not be a barrier to achieving your dreams. Of course, in the play, and in the spirit of Neil Baldwin, that would be a cue for another custard pie, because above all else Marvellous is a happy show about a happy man. If you’re looking for a fun night out, it’s certainly worth a visit.

Marvellous can be seen @sohoplace until 26 November 2022.

Read the review of @sohoplace here

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