Theatre review: The Cabinet Minister at The Menier

This could be the Comedy of the Year

Comedy of the Year?

★★★★

The Cabinet Minister at The Menier Theatre. Photo: Tristram Kenton

Who would have thought that a forgotten play by a seldom-performed Victorian playwright would be one of the funniest theatre shows of the year?

Arthur Pinero was one of the most popular playwrights of his day- he was even given a knighthood. He made his name with farces and then with more serious plays on social matters like The Second Mrs Tanquery– one of the few that people may have heard of. While he may not offer quite the sharp wit or tight plots of his contemporary Oscar Wilde, Pinero too mocked the Victorian upper class.

I think it’s fair to say his plays haven’t aged as well as Wilde’s, but with a little attention from adaptor Nancy Carroll, The Cabinet Minister scrubs up very well. She’s simplified the story, cut the anachronisms, and added lashings of innuendoes.

What is the plot? Unbeknownst to him, a government minister’s wife and son have run up enormous debts. The latter is a gambler, the former has bought far too many expensive dresses on credit. If the debts aren’t paid, the minister already under pressure to resign, will be disgraced and forced to retire to that fate worse than death (to his wife, anyway) the countryside.

The dressmaker and her moneylender brother intend to use the debts as leverage to gain entry into high society, and, in the brother’s case, to use insider knowledge to make a stock market killing. The wife’s solution is to marry off her children to rich spouses. They have different ideas- they would like to marry for love.

A rollicking farce

Nicholas Rowe & Nancy Carroll in The Cabinet Minister. Photo: Tristram Kenton

So, it has all the ingredients of a comedy of manners and a rollicking farce. Nancy Carroll, director Paul Foster, designer Janet Bird and a well chosen cast have cooked them up into the comedy of the year. Nicholas Rowe plays the government minister Sir Julian Twombley. Tall and patrician, and so cynical about politics he gets his butler to write his speeches, he provides the still centre for the shenanigans.

Nancy Carroll not only adapted the play, she stars as his wife Lady Katherine Twombley. She knows how lucky she is to be part of high society, and doesn’t want that luck to run out. In Ms Carroll’s hands, she carries herself haughtily, throws out barbed one-liners, and panics wholeheartedly, as when she tries to strangle her nemesis Bernard Lacklustre. He’s the main creditor and, played by Laurence Ubong Williams, is a Del Boy character failing at every turn to blend into upper class society.

His sister Fanny Lacklustre is a tradesperson in the morning and a lady in the afternoon, such are the complexities of the class system. Lady Katherine may feel contempt for her, and shows it, but she cannot resist the pressure to bring her into her world. Phoebe Fildes gives a great turn as the thick-skinned schemer, ignoring sleights, ever smiling and pressing on with her plans.

Then there are the children. I particularly liked Rosalind Ford as a naive, confused Imogen Twombley. She is in love with Valentine, a hairy, smelly explorer who won’t settle for domesticity, and played by George Blagden with panache.  Unfortunately, her parents have promised her to a rich Scottish laird, Sir Colin McPhail. And here we come to the highest comedy of the evening. Sir Colin is taciturn and shy. Played by Matthew Woodyatt, he’s a lumbering giant ties himself in knots trying to proclaim his feelings, while his mother Lady MacPhail speaks for him and at times the whole of Scotland. Played by Dillie Keane, best known as part of Fascinating Aida, she is an over-the-top Scot forever banging on about the glens and hills of her beloved country.

Attempting to matchmake is Dora, the Dowager Countess of Drumdurris. She constantly appears and disappears through the two doors in classic farce fashion. Sara Crowe was indisposed when I saw the show. While her last minute replacement read the lines well from a script, we lost some of the speed that I am sure was intended by movement director Joanna Goodwin.

Members of the cast play musical instruments. This device is used regularly by The Watermill Theatre and by Pride and Prejudice* (*sort of). It is highly effective in establishing mood and sometimes character and can also help keep us the audience at bay in a play where we are deliberately distanced from being emotionally involved with the characters.

I mentioned Nancy Carroll has packed her adaptation with innuendoes. If you’d like an example, I’ll give you one.  At one musical moment, Fanny offers to fiddle with flute playing Sir Julian.

The sets and costumes by Janet Bird are terrific. The Menier stage area is quite small but versatile. On this occasion, the audience is on two sides, creating an intimate drawing room feel.  The costumes are sumptuous, looking fin de siecle and subtly reflecting the characters. The Twombleys’ home is decorated minmally but with a chintzy late Victorian style including a chaise longue and of course a piano.

The portrait of high society and its fragility, as well as the seriousness of debt, would have been much more recognisable to a Victorian audience, but we are still a class-ridden society and the characters’ many pretensions hit home. And without it ever needing to be stated explicitly, the references to corrupt politics and donations in exchange for influence show times haven’t changed as much as we might hope. I’m sure the rumours that Lord Ali gave Sir Keir tickets for the opening night  are entirely without foundation.

The Cabinet Minister can be seen at The Menier Chocolate Factory Theatre until 16 November 2024.

Paul paid for his ticket.

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

Read what other critics said about The Cabinet Minister

 

 

The Inquiry – Minerva – review

New political play by Guardian writer lacks drama

★★

John Heffernan, a male actor, stands in front of Deborah Findlay, a female actor, and leans forward to make a point, in the play The Inquiry at Chichestre's Minerva Theatre
Deborah Findlay & John Heffernan in The Inquiry. Photo: Manuel Harlan

I’ve probably been to and enjoyed more plays at Chichester Festival Theatres than anywhere else except the National Theatre. Unfortunately, The Inquiry at The Minerva wasn’t one of them.

The finale of Chichester’s 2023 season is Harry Davies’ theatrical debut and, no question, he is a promising playwright. Indeed there are signs that he has the potential to be another James Graham. I even suspect that, with more work, this play could take off but, at the moment, it’s still on the runway.

Before I report on my inquiry into what went wrong with The Inquiry, let me describe the subject of the play. Public Inquiries were established to answer the need for independent investigations into major incidents, as opposed to the previous practice of governments scrutinising their own wrongdoing. Harry Davies questions just how independent they are.
The subject of this particular Inquiry is a mass poisoning involving a water company. We join it at the stage known as ‘Maxwellisation’, a word I’d never come across before, but which is the term used for the moment when an Inquiry’s draft report is passed to those criticised, for comment and possible correction of facts.
The Justice Minister, who is also Lord Chancellor and an aspiring Prime Minister, has been chastised in the report for his actions whilst Environment Minister. He is dragging his feet in providing his response. To spice things up, someone is leaking confidential information about the report. The minister and his cohort are convinced it must be the Inquiry chair’s team. They plan a counterattack through the media to undermine the inquiry.
You might imagine this is the stuff of gripping drama. It’s not. Apparently, the Inquiry has so far taken four years, and the first act, in which the groundwork is laid for the second act, at some moments felt like it was going to last as long.
The complexities of public inquiries and political intrigues have the potential to be interesting, but only if the characters are meaty. The problem with The Inquiry is that they’re all rather more vegetable than red-blooded.
John Heffernan plays Arthur Gill, the minister under siege. Soft spoken with a ready smile and a flippant approach to serious questions, he is never likely to be accused of being a bully, or arrogant or even ambitious, despite having his eyes on the prime ministerial prize. Mr Heffernan brings colour to the role but he’s working from a pastel palette.
His assistant Helen played by Stephanie Street and his civil servant-cum-just-plain-servant Donna, played by Macy Nyman, are scarcely less pleasant.
Over on the opposing team, Lady Justice Deborah Wingate who chairs the Inquiry is just as quietly spoken, reasonable and smiley. You do get a sense of the steel she would need to employ in her position, but Deborah Findlay’s portrayal emphasises the niceness. No less nice is her right-hand man Jonathan Hayden KC, a charming fixer played by Nicholas Rowe.
Oh, and there’s Arthur Gill’s fixer, his old mentor, Lord Patrick Thorncliffe, who ‘knows’ people and shows at least a hint of ruthlessness behind his smooth exterior. Malcolm Sinclair is appropriately patrician in the role.

Not enough variety in the characters

Mr Davies writes decent, flowing dialogue but his characters all have the same way of speaking, and they’re all ever so polite. It’s as if they all went to the same public school, the same university and belong to the same club. Imagine you bought a Kellogg’s variety pack, and found they were all cornflakes. At one point, Arthur and Deborah even compare memories of their barrister days.
Now, Harry Davies might be making a point that those who run our government and judicial system are all part of an elite club, who know one another and have more in common with each other than they do with the rest of us. But, in a drama, we need characters to have characteristics that will amuse us and annoy us, but, most of all, make us believe their story.
Take David Cameron and Boris Johnson. They have almost identical educational backgrounds but very different characters. The people in The Inquiry seem to have no distinguishing features. When it comes to vanilla, they rival Madagascar.
John Heffernan, Stephanie Street and Malcolm Sinclair who are three actors in the play The Inquiry at The Minerva Theatre in Chichester, are grouped around a table
John Heffernan, Stephanie Street & Malcolm Sinclair in The Inquiry. Photo: Manuel Harlan

I don’t mean The Inquiry should be like The Thick Of It but it would help if the combatants had some distinguishing mannerisms, verbal habits, or, heaven forbid, volatility. For goodness sake, these are politicians and barristers, professions full of actors manqués, people who deliberately adopt a persona for effect. It not only undermines the drama than none of them possess a ready wit, a line in sarcasm, a short fuse, or even a twitch, it takes away credibility.

The set designed by Max Jones reflects this: a background of a large rectangle of oak against a larger rectangle of marble, a leather-topped desk on a green carpet on a polished wooden floor. What could be more solid, more neutral- and more boring? This would be highly effective, if only it were in contrast to the characters squabbling on this stage.
Thank goodness for the quality of acting and Joanna Bowman’s direction, which breathed some life into the story.
There are moments within the play when you wake up and take notice. Each act features an ongoing interview between Arthur and a friendly journalist, Elyse. She’s not exactly Jeremy Paxman but she does get beneath his skin, and enables him to reveal more about himself than we might otherwise have learned. It’s a part played with zest by Shazia Nichols.
And I did like the way the play was full of misdirections, admittedly some more clever than others, before it gets to its big question: whether these two powerful people- the minister and the judge- will put their personal feelings or their ambition first.
Everything leads to the one-on-one confrontation, as he tries to force her into resignation and she steadfastly stands her ground. This provides some real drama, as an amiable irresistible force meets a mild-mannered immovable object. It’s a scene of revelations and one major twist. However, that twist is so implausible that when Dame Deborah said, ‘I find that hard to believe’, I found myself nodding: ‘You and me both, my Lady.’

I wondered for a moment whether I’d got the time frame wrong but the play is clearly set in the present day or thereabouts. Both have secrets that could have been scandals in a play from the early 1950s, maybe by Terence Rattigan whose style this drama resembles, but today? I wasn’t convinced. 
Even if The Inquiry doesn’t quite deliver the goods, I hope to see more from Harry Davies.
The Inquiry can be seen at The Minerva until 11 November 2023
Paul was given a review ticket by the theatre

Mike Bartlett’s Albion – review of BBC live recording

Victoria Hamilton blooms in Mike Bartlett’s play about loss

★★★★

Victoria Hamilton in Albion at the Almeida recorded live
Victoria Hamilton in Albion at the Almeida. Photo: Marc Brenner

Sometimes you watch the first act of a play and it’s just the setup and you really want to get it over with so you can move on to how it’s all going to work out. Not so with Mike Bartlett’s Albion, directed by Rupert Goold at the Almeida Theatre, which is currently available as a live recording on BBC iPlayer. The first act is captivating and what follows, while good, never lives up to the promise.

Audrey has bought a house she knew as a child. It had a historic garden and she plans to renovate it. No matter that this involves uprooting her daughter, neglecting her business, upsetting the local community who have become used to using the huge outdoor space for their annual events.

It’s a good script but what you’re riveted by is Victoria Hamilton’s performance. From the start, she grabs you by the lapels, then she puts you down and walks away, then she picks you again. She is mesmerising as she paces back and forth and spits out her staccato sentences, like a neurotic sergeant major. For example, when she is pouring tea and says: ‘Let me be mother…since I am…’ followed by a false, stuttering laugh.

This is the sort of intimate theatre that works really well in a live recording. The Almeida is a small theatre and the cast occupy a three-sided stage. It’s like an oval island surrounded by the audience. Actually, although an island might symbolise its isolation from the rest of the world, it is in fact a garden with a solid tree at one end, giving a sense of history. The actors don’t have to shout and the cameras close in on a face much as you would if you were lucky enough to be sitting in one of the seats.

For me, nothing lived up to that first act. There’s plenty going on with many developments involving the other characters but they felt tacked on, no matter how good the acting was. Not so much multi-layered, as laid on thick. And the ending was way too melodramatic.

What I loved throughout the whole play was the dominating character of Audrey and the way Victoria Hamilton blooms as the wishful gardener. Grief has consumed her and the only way she can cope is to reject everyone and everything in favour of a retreat into an imagined golden age.

She has lost her soldier son in what she sees as defending his country but what is referred to a one point as a ‘folly’. As a way of honouring him, she is determined to recreate the original garden, even though it is now anachronistic. It’s pointed out that the climate has changed- and that ‘climate’ may refer to more than growing conditions, because there is an allegory here for the state of England and how we as a nation are coping with the loss of mythical past glories and with the need to move on.

Audrey wants to return to a bygone age but only within the boundaries of her world. So, she doesn’t care that she is trampling on the traditions of the local people; and she hires the more efficient Polish cleaner (and sacks the local woman who has done the job for years. It is fascinating, shocking even to see the insensitivity that can come from single-mindedness, and her gradual but inevitable disintegration.

Set of Albion at The Almeida Theatre London, designed by Miriam Buether. Photo: Marc Brenner
Mike Bartlett’s Albion at The Almeida Theatre. Photo: Marc Brenner

It’s also fascinating to see the garden change as flowers grow through the four acts, each of which is a different season, culminating with the ‘fall’. It’s a great design by Miriam Buether.

I glossed over the other characters earlier but that doesn’t mean I don’t think they were acted well. Audrey’s daughter Zara is played by Daisy Edgar-Jones, who recently made a breakthrough to stardom with her role in TV’s Normal People. She is perfect as a troubled twenty something. Helen Schlesinger makes you feel the pain as Katherine, a successful but shy novelist, forced to make a hard choice between a thirty year friendship and a rare opportunity for love.

In a play that is more amusing than funny, Nicholas Rowe as Audrey’s devoted husband Paul got the most laughs as a man so proudly laid back that he was almost horizontal.

It’s hard not to compare Albion with Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard. Unfortrunately, on every count, this play comes out worse. Chekhov’s second half doesn’t peter out, his ending feels real and even his minor characters have depth.  So best not go there, better to simply enjoy Albion as a good if not great play with a mother of a leading role that, in future productions, actors will queue up to play.

For me, one of the tests of watching theatre at home is whether I wish I’d seen it in the theatre. In Albion’s case, despite some flaws, I would have loved to have been there. Especially to see that outstanding performance by Victoria Hamilton.

The live recording of Mike Bartlett’s Albion is currently available on BBC i-Player.

Watch the YouTube video of this review here.

×