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

Two plus one equals a challenging comedy

★★★★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paul paid for his ticket.

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

October 11, 2022May 4, 2023

The Crucible with Erin Doherty – National Theatre – review

★★★★

Erin Doherty in The Crucible at National Theatre London 2022

Back in 1953, when Arthur Miller wrote The Crucible, a play about the late 17th century witch trials in Salem Massachusetts, he no doubt had in mind a modern day witch hunt in which a US senator persecuted perceived communists, especially in Hollywood. But it could be about any time when authorities demonise others to consolidate their power.

It’s a compelling study in how the process of a witch hunt develops a momentum of its own and triggers vengeance, fear and even mass hysteria. Lyndsey Turner’s intense production is powerfully acted by Erin Doherty, Brendan Cowell and the rest of the cast.

In a small town run by the church, some misbehaving girls try to get off the hook by claiming to be possessed by the Devil. This gets out of hand as they take the opportunity to get their own back on some respectable and respected citizens by accusing them of being disciples of the devil who lead them on. A trial ensues. Adults confess to outlandish encounters with demons, more accusations fly, more adults confess in a form of mass hysteria, and the children too start to believe their own tales.

The girls are led by Abigail. It’s a bravura performance by Erin Doherty. You might know her best as an excellent Princess Anne in The Crown but she shows her full range as an actor here. Her character is clearly a rebel but also scheming. So, we see her wheedling, pleading, and, in a terrifying scene, inspiring the other girls into wild-eyed, uncontrolled shaking, as if possessed.

Authoritarian power is just one of the subjects explored in Arthur Miller’s complex play, but it’s the one from which all elsefrom which all else arises. As we enter the Olivier auditorium, we are confronted by pouring rain. Every scene begins with pouring rain. Torrents of water team onto the front of the stage. It seems this community is already suffering the punishment of a pitiless Old Testament God. We’re told the community is a theocracy. No separation in those days between church and state: the Church is in charge and there can be no challenge to its authority.

The church leader Reverend Parris is confronted by children secretly rebelling against the church’s rules by secretly dancing, among other things. Some of the citizens believe this behaviour has been caused by the Devil in the form of witchcraft. The priest is skeptical but he knows support for him in the community is shaky, so he calls in a preacher with higher authority and a knowledge of witchcraft: the Reverend Hale. A major trial follows, headed by Deputy Governor Danforth, played with a steely eye and a stern jaw by Matthew Marsh. He has his own reasons for wanting to stamp his authority on the community.

At this point, it’s a case of ‘to a hammer everything is a nail’. It seems obvious that the children are dissembling but, as the excellent National Theatre programme points out, the authorities see what they believe rather than believing what they see. As the witch hunt goes to extremes in the heat of the ‘crucible’, both Parris and Hale, given passionate and nuanced performances by Nick Fletcher and Fisayo Akinade respectively, begin to see how one-sided the trial is. They realise good people are being dragged down and note that ‘every defence is seen as an attack on the court’.

Production photo from The Crucible at the National theatre London in 2022 showing Brendan Cowell — Brendan Cowell in The Crucible. Photo: Johan Persson

One man who speaks out against the trial is John Proctor whose wife is accused of witchcraft. It’s a thundering piece of acting from Brendan Cowell as a good but flawed man. In a heart-breaking sequence, he nobly tries to reason with the Court and is brought down by his own honesty and the challenge he poses to the Church’s teachings.

What else is going on? Oppression of women by the church. They are expected to be silent and obedient. As the girls are indoctrinated by tales of hellfire and damnation, they are primed for believing they have been taken over by unseen forces. And they have a readymade means of excusing themselves.

Fear, revenge and greed all play a part. People turn on each other to save themselves. The girls are only too quick to denounce the many adults they resent. Ruthless people take the opportunity to gain land from those found guilty of witchcraft. There’s a lot to think about and be shocked by in this intelligent, frightening play.

It’s easy to discern many parallels more modern than the McCarthyite witch hunt. We can see what goes in all totalitarian countries where a weak authority cannot be questioned: the actions of the morality police in Iran for example, or would-be authoritarians closer to home for whom an alternative point of view or a minor misdemeanour can ignite outrage on social media leading to death threats and cancellation.

Director Lyndsey Turner has created an fervid production, only marred by a tendency at times towards melodrama. One nice touch is that nearly all the characters point fingers as they argue, a metaphor made physical. The masterful set by Es Devlin is appropriately black-and-white except when we visit the Proctors’ warmer-coloured home. An opaque ceiling hangs over hhe entire stage. Through it filters a diffused flouredcrnt white light suggesting no one can hide from a pitiless regime.

Crucial to the production are Tim Lutkin’s lighting and the sound by Caroline Shaw, Tingying Dong and Paul Arditti. The cast are usually lit from the side creating a lchiaroscuro effect, again suggesting no middle ground. A stretched low note drones in the background, ratcheting up the tension.

The impressive cast also includes Sophia Brown, Karl Johnson, Eileen Walsh and Tilly Tremayne.

The Crucible was performed at the National Theatre 21 September – 5 November 2022, and will transfer with cast changes to the Gielgud theatre from 2 June to 7 September 2023

Paul was given a press ticket by the producer.

Click here to see the review on the One Minute Theatre Reviews YouTube channel

November 4, 2020May 4, 2023

Crave by Sarah Kane at Chichester – review

CFT production goes to the heart of Kane’s scream of despair

★★★★

Production shot of Crave at Chichester Festival Theatre — Crave at Chichester Festival Theatre. Photo: Marc Brenner

Four actors are standing on four travelators which are in reverse so their characters are constantly having to move forward. While in constant motion, they face front and speak, usually in a staccato sound, often in short single sentences or phrases, some of them repeated. It sounds like a spray of bullets from a machine gun.

They seem to be talking to you but they may also be talking to each other or to no-one. The travelators keep them separate, even if they are communicating, so the effect is of isolation.

Is it all the stream of consciousness of one person? Are they all dead or on their deathbeds facing a form of judgement day? There is no plot, no clear relationships, not even clearly defined characters. As someone says at one point: ‘If this makes no sense, then you understood it perfectly’. So I think I must have understood it perfectly. No matter. I certainly found it engrossing.

Chichester Festival Theatre’s artistic director Daniel Evans talked in his interview with me about seeing Crave in a new light because of the isolation we are all feeling at the moment. I’m sure this is true, but the director Tinuke Craig seems to have got beyond the lockdown resonance to the very heart of this play, because it’s not only about the loneliness but also the darkness of human existence.

When she wrote the play Sarah Kane offered no help in how to stage her text. It has been done in many ways, for example with the characters together in a room, but Tinuke Craig’s decision to stage Crave in this way, both in concept and the realisation in Alex Lowde’s set is genius, even if it may have been triggered by the requirements of social distancing. These anonymous traumatised characters are truly isolated and stuck on their own relentless path. “Here I am in the darkness again,’ says one. ‘On the edge of nothing’ comes the liturgical response.

You wouldn’t be surprised if this was a play by Samuel Beckett except there is none of the hope and courage that his characters show in the face of their futile situations. Here there seems to be only despair at the human condition.

I found myself deeply disturbed by this bleak view of life but could perhaps have been more moved if Kane had made her characters more like real people that I could connect with. However, I hesitate to call this a failure on her part as I assume it was a deliberate decision to disconnect them emotionally from those watching, just as they have no names, only letters A, B, C and M.

So much of what they say you might generously call aphorisms, like ‘no-one

Production shot of erin Doherty in Crave at Chichester Festival Theatre — Erin Doherty in Crave. Photo: Marc Brenner

survives life’, and there are echoes of other works, which is not a criticism. The borrowing reminded me of T S Eliot’s The Waste Land. I think the poetry of this piece- and it is a poem- is not only in what is said but how it’s said. During the play someone describes poetry as ‘language for its own sake’ but the language of this poem has a kind of jagged beauty because, within its cadence, telling words about need and rejection constantly jab at you. And every so often a line really brings you up short, like: ‘What I sometimes mistake for ecstasy is the absence of grief.’

The actors were impressive. Neediness and desperation pervaded all that they did. Some of what they talked about was very upsetting. Erin Doherty‘s character referred in a sometimes strangulated voice to the rape and abuse she had received and talked about her poor self image. Jonathan Slinger’s character first announced he was a paedophile which then coloured a subsequent long and touching monologue about love which itself was later contradicted by his nasty cynicism. A mentiuion too for Alfred Enoch and Wendy Kweh. It was a bravura performance by all concerned.

‘A horror so deep only ritual can contain it’

The sound, composed by Anna Clock, comprised sawing, disjointed, low notes played on, I think, a cello. It was discomfiting but in just the right way. And Ravi Deepres’ back-projected film of images of the characters, sometimes negative or blurred, added rather than distracted. I was particularly struck by a close up of Erin Doherty’s face and the words ‘What have they done to me’ gradually appearing in writing on her skin.

When one character talked of ‘a horror so deep only ritual can contain it’, I thought of the horrors that were being contained on this occasion because they were being presented within the ritual of a play. And when I say ‘contained’, I mean only just. At the end, in quite biblical language, the characters embrace the freedom of death, and the play ends with a blackout. I was left totally wrung out.

About the screening. The process of logging in to view the event was straightforward and I was pleased that I was able to sit back and watch it on my telly with good picture quality rather than on blurry Zoom or the small screen of my laptop. The live broadcast went without a hitch when I saw it. We had front views, side views and close ups but in a way that enhanced the performance. The way the production was done had the advantage that, although it was a theatre show, it didn’t look like a film of a stage play because it could also be a movie about four people trapped in any empty space. Congratulations all round.

Performances of Crave was live streamed in November 2021. cft.org.uk

Click here to watch this review on the YouTube channel One Minute Theatre Reviews

Erin Doherty is currently playing Princess Anne in the Netflix series The Crown.