The Beauty Queen of Leenane at The Belgrade Theatre.

Martin McDonagh has become something of a doyen among modern British writers. Ever since the first performance of this, his first published play, in 1996 at the Royal Court Theatre, his star has been in ascendance. Needless to say I was extremely excited at the prospect of seeing this production, having never seen the play performed before and thankfully the production did not fail to deliver.
The setting was a dusty, rustic cottage. The walls exposed to allow the audience to minutely examine the inhabitants of the house. This was clearly a house stuck in the past. The furniture old and dusty, the walls cracked and chipped, their plaster peeling. Dominating the action, centre-stage was an antique wood stove that flickered and spluttered throughout. This was a world under scrutiny, a world where everyone knew his or her neighbours business. A tangled, unkempt garden was just visible behind the back wall of the cottage giving the impression that the outside world was slowly starting to invade the cottage. It was clear to the audience that we were looking at a remote, inhospitable prison where the inmates had no choice but to interact with each other. The stage was lit with a pallid, yellow hue whilst the world outside the cottage was pitch black. This sickly contrast nicely evoked the feel of the house; beige Complan, grey porridge, yellow urine poured down the sink.
Two women are trapped in this space, Mag and her daughter Maureen. This is the archetypal parasitic relationship with Mag tormenting her already brittle daughter until the inevitable happens. The strength of this production was its acting. Both Carole Dance as Mag and Alice Selwyn as Maureen excelled in their roles; skilfully making the audience continually change sympathies. One moment you loathe Mag for her selfishness, the next you pity her for her daughters cruel treatment. Both actresses were ably supported by Alan DeVally as Ray Dooley and Paul Boyle as his brother Pato. Both these characters represented the possibility of change, the promised escape and it is the great tragedy of the play that this promise goes unfulfilled. Alan DeVally had a nervous energy, which contrasted nicely with the sullen stillness of Dance's Mag.
Being a McDonagh play you inevitably get a mix of black humour and extreme violence and in this play they are combined cleverly to make you laugh one moment at the foolishness of something Mag has said and then gasp in horror at Maureen’s reaction to it.
During all of the scene changes traditional Celidh music was played, which served to locate the play very much in rural Ireland.
I have one issue with the production however. Being a naturalistic play the director obviously had to maintain the ‘literal’ nature of the house, and did this by having characters only enter and leave the stage through the two doors, both of which were located stage right. Whilst this did make the house seem real, it also meant that several scene changes looked messy, as several characters had to cross the stage while other action was happening. The production would have felt slicker if characters could have exited stage left also.
All in all an excellent, well-acted production, which accurately conveyed the claustrophobia and despair that is so bound up in McDonagh’s text. Black humour and brutal characters combine to create a frighteningly enjoyable evening of entertainment.

Days of Significance at The Belgrade Theatre.

Roy Williams' play deals primarily with the friction between youthful freedom and adult responsibility set against the backdrop of the war in Afghanistan. The play is essentially split into three acts; the first a standard weekend night out where two young men reveal their desire to go to fight in Iraq, the second a scene from the front line of the war in Iraq where the young men have to face up to the realities of the war, and finally the wedding to which only one of the young men comes back to.
Interestingly the first section of the play is an updated version of the ‘plot of Shakespeare's 'Much Ado About Nothing’; Hannah (the Hero character) is insulted by Jamie based on Claudio, and in response her best friend Trish (short for Beatrice) gets her boy friend Ben (the Benedick character) and also Jamie’s best friend to ‘beat him up’. Inevitably, as in ‘Much Ado’ the characters are reconciled and they spend a night together wondering about their future. This is where ‘Days of Significance’ takes over from ‘Much Ado’ and continues the story. ‘Much Ado’ deals with soldiers coming back from war and falling in love, whilst the characters in ‘Days of Significance’ fall in love before going off to war. In ‘Days of Significance’ we are denied the happy ending of ‘Much Ado’.The first thing you notice when entering the auditorium is the sense of decay. A large-cola sign dominates the sign, torn across the middle, giving the impression of urban grime. It is clear we are witnessing a standard Saturday evening; neon signs flicker and buzz filling the space with their tinny growl; a kebab stand, proudly displaying its special offers, quietly steams in the corner, the smell of kebabs and lager permeating the stage. Into this space burst two young men, grappling and cursing, flinging each other about the stage until their mates intervene. It is clear to the audience that we are not going to be spared any of the ‘gory details’ of a typical Saturday night. Before we are even fifteen minutes into the play people have vomited over themselves, urinated against walls and sprayed mayonnaise onto each other’s clothes. This general horseplay and youthful abandon creates an atmosphere of complete youthful freedom. This is a world without consequence; even the police seem powerless to keep the lads under control.The second section of the play is a far sombre affair. A previously darkened section of the stage, directly beneath the coca-cola sign, is lit to reveal a war-torn building in Afghanistan. The ‘heroes’ of the first section Ben and Jamie suddenly burst violently into the space under heavy gunfire but unlike the first section this time the violence is real. The contrast between the bright, colourful, neon world of the first act and the stark white washed walls of the second act provide a nice distinction between the two. This time it is blood not vomit that is flooding the stage and staining their clothes. The banter of the lads vanishes. The bravado they displayed when mocking the consistently downbeat police officers disappears when they are faced with a real threat.The third act deals with the aftermath of the Afghanistan conflict. Only one of the two young men comes back and their friends at home are left to deal with fallout of the war. The third act takes the form of a particularly bawdy wedding, the excesses of which again provides a nice juxtaposition to the previous section.Whilst the scenes of working-class Britain life are clearly designed to provide a stark contrast with the soldiers’ lives in Afghanistan I felt they sometimes seemed a little patronising. All the modern 'chav' clichés and stereotypes were present: badly sung Karaoke, cheap booze and 'slutty' bridesmaids. The bride even had a packet of cigarettes stuffed down the cleavage of her wedding dress. It was these little touches probably intended to show a gritty, uncompromising view of working class Britain that I felt let the production down. They added a ‘pantomimic’ aspect to acts one and three that jarred with the strong naturalistic performances in act two.However, the play did boast several very powerful performances. Worth a mention is Toby Wharton as Ben the young man desperately trying to work out what he future he has and Sarah Ridgeway as Trish, a character fearless in the defence of her friends. I was particularly impressed by David Kennedy’s performance as Lenny, the father of Hannah, as a man desperately trying to hold his daughter’s fragile life together.All in all this was an interesting piece of theatre that questions how much young people actually know about the war they are enlisting for. As one character puts it they are only going to war because ‘Saddam’s a cunt.’ It made me realise the desperation some young people feel when they find themselves leaving school without any direction in life. Several strong performances and some interesting staging as well as innovative use of video projection make this a show worth seeing.

Porridge at The Belgrade Theatre Coventry.

I am unashamed to admit that I was looking forward to this production. I am a huge fan of the original television series and I was interested to see how it would translate onto the stage. Sadly, it was my fondness of the original that made this stage adaptation seem lacklustre.
It is not that it was badly acted; in fact the production boasted several enjoyable and charismatic performances, which if viewed on their own merits are completely acceptable. However when they are compared to the original t.v show performances they seem merely to be weak imitations. In fact the term ‘weak imitation’ can sum up this production. I was hoping for a new play; a unique text, some jokes I hadn’t heard before. Excitingly the stage play was scripted by the original writers Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais. Instead the audience were presented with several of the most well known episodes condensed into a two-hour play. Therefore the fans were presented with their favourite lines and jokes acted out by inferior performers.
If anything this production was fairly insulting to any fans of the series. They paid money to see jokes they had heard previously spoken by the incomparable Ronnie Barker, acted out by a fairly average bunch of actors.
The show did have its merits. A simple but effective stage, managed to convey the spirit of Slade Prison. Sean Williamson ('Barry off Eastenders') took on the nigh impossible task of re-creating Fletcher and whilst his performance was not in the same league as Ronnie Barker’s he did a creditable job, and it was his charisma that managed to carry the show.
It was laziness that let this production down. If the play had had a new script the audience would have had nothing to compare against, but by recycling the original text they were setting themselves an impossible task. It is an impossible task to re-create the magic of the television series. All in all a disappointing evening of theatre.

Deepcut at The Warwick Arts Centre

Philip Ralph’s play explores the four mysterious deaths at Deepcut Barracks in Surrey between 1995-2002. It focuses on the aftermath of the suicide of the lively and likeable Private Cheryl James from Llangollen who seems, at the age of 18, to have had everything going for her, but whose death, like those of the other three soldiers, was automatically assumed by the authorities to be suicide.

Combining interviews with Cheryl’s grief-stricken parents with official documentation, journalism and conversations with the other major players directly involved in the story (including a young female officer at the barracks at the same time as Cheryl) the production leaves little doubt that the investigations into the deaths were completely muddled.

The play has its flaws. I would have liked to see more descriptions of the general culture at Deepcut, which we are told by Private Jones was incredibly close to being out of control on a heady mix of drink, sex and violence. The play also suffers from several mixed performances; some acutely well realised, others painfully caricatured.

The problem of verbatim theatre is that it can only show what was actually recorded in the interviews, therefore from an audience's perspective this means a lot of the story is missing. We can never hear Cheryl’s voice or watch Private B explain himself.

Verbatim theatre can be honest and it can be harrowing in its honesty but it can be frustratingly incomplete. It also begs the question, ‘Is theatre the right medium for this story?’ In fact should this story even be performed? Personally I think it should, as the tragic events definitely need telling; they just need telling well.

The play undoubtedly persuades the audience that a great injustice took place, which is surely a good thing. While the play exists, the case cannot be closed. We can never know exactly how Cheryl James died. All we can do is remember that a young woman lost her life and surely this play is the best way of doing that.

Prick Up Your Ears at The Comedy Theatre

Prick Up Your Ears depicts the difficult relationship between Joe Orton and his lover Kenneth Halliwell. Based on true-events, the playwright Simon Bent has used John Lahr’s biography of Orton as his starting point. And this is where the production hits its first major flaw in that it doesn’t tell us anything new about the lives of Orton and Halliwell. Anyone who has read the Joe Orton’s diaries or seen the film based on them (also entitled Prick Up Your Ears) would be well aware of the outcome. This play needed to do something different or at least show us something new. Unfortunately it did neither. However, its saving grace was the performances. Matt Lucas’s Halliwell was a bubbling, neurotic failed writer, crippled into self-loathing by Orton’s success. In comparison Chris New’s Orton was a swaggering, self-confident, highly sexed individual. The higher Orton’s star became the lower Halliwell sank. As Mrs Corden the housekeeper, Gwen Taylor got the funniest lines in the production, (which she gleefully played upon) making the play at times feel like one of Orton’s own comedies. However she also brought a depth of feeling to the part, which made her more than just a walk-on comedy role.
The set was a tight ‘box’ modelled exactly on the dimensions of Halliwell and Orton’s room. Throughout the production the audience got the sense of the claustrophobia the two men must have felt. As Halliwell’s frustration and paranoia grew so did the collage he built on the wall until it consumed the space, making the cramped set feel even more oppressed. All in all this was an entertaining piece of theatre with some strong performances, but sadly it failed to say anything new about Orton and Halliwell’s tragic relationship

The Tempest at the Courtyard Theatre

The last time I saw the Baxter Theatre perform a Shakespearean play it was back in 2005 with Hamlet. After having seen their excellent interpretation of the play I hoped to see more collaborations between the RSC and outside companies. These collaborations failed to materialise until now and whilst Hamlet was good, their version of The Tempest was great.
The thrust stage at the Courtyard theatre was transformed into a dry, dusty African island. In a set reminiscent of The Lion King the stage was sand-grey, strewn with rocks, sand and sawdust. Steep steps led to a plateau at the back of the stage forming both Prospero’s study and Caliban’s cave. Fibrous, orange trees flanked the back wall.
Into this warm, colourful environment came four musicians who would play music throughout the performance. Then with a flourish of authentic African accompaniment we were ushered into the Tempest. The cast dressed as animals and spirits took to the stage leaping around to the beat of the drum as a huge skilfully manipulated serpent entered. This serpent became the storm, which Prospero used to destroy the ship. Coloured cloth, suspended from the ceiling was lowered and became waves sweeping across the stage. It was an opening that encapsulated the fierce, vibrant energy and colour that characterised this production.
Both Prospero and Miranda were dressed in the colour scheme of the set making them a part of the place. In comparison, the invaders Alonso, Sebastian and Antonio were dressed in immaculate white suits adorned with symbols of their power. As the play progressed and they became increasingly desperate the symbols of their status were eventually discarded until they were left as dirty and ragged as Miranda and Prospero.
The use of puppetry in this production was key to Janice Honeyman’s reclaimation of the play. Honeyman drew heavily from African mythology. The masque was transformed into a voodoo ceremony raising tall, colourful spirits from the dead to celebrate Miranda and Ferdinand’s wedding. The puppets appealed to the entire demographic, enchanting the younger members of the audience and thrilling the older members; holding the entire audience spellbound.
The beautiful aesthetic was ably supported by the strong performances of the cast. Anthony Sher led the cast and it was his performance that rooted the piece. Sher’s Prospero was a strong, powerful, heavily bearded man, fully in control the island. At times he dressed like a magician, at times like a coloniser, complete with straw hat and whip. He was both a creator of the island and its product.
Sher’s fiery Prospero was in stark contrast to John Kani’s dignified Caliban. Kani’s Caliban was no vile, fish-like monster; he was dignified, elderly black man who had to rely on two sticks in order to walk. Caliban was completely enslaved by Prospero. Honeyman has created a play driven by the tension between coloniser and colonised. The servants in this play were black whilst their overlords were white. A black Gonzalo and Adrian served Alonso and Antonio; black seamen captained the ship; a black Ariel served Prospero. Honeyman’s reclaimation of the play has pulled the racism of the play to the fore. Sections of the text were translated into the African dialects of Swahili and Zulu to make the piece speak in a deliberately African way.
Atandwa Kani’s Ariel was a potent symbol of the African culture Prospero was making use of. Wearing nothing but a loincloth and liberally daubed with white paint he appeared as a Zulu warrior. Possessing a fine singing voice and powerful physicality, Atandwa led the actors in the many tribal songs and dances of the piece bringing a frenetic energy to the production.
Tinarie Van Wyk Loots brought an interesting spin to Miranda. This was a character that was a part of the island; who had become almost bestial. When she first entered the stage she hopped and crawled like a monkey, dressed in rags, it was only when she met Ferdinand that she started walk upright, to imitate him. In a particularly touching scene they clung together, cleaning each other like monkeys.
Charlie Keegan made for an interesting Ferdinand, though he may have been cast because of the size of his muscles.
Both Antonio and Sebastian were suitably evil. Upon discovering that Ferdinand was alive, Nicholas Pauling’s Sebastian delivered the line ‘A most high miracle’ incredibly sarcastically, drawing gales of laughter from the audience.
Trinculo and Stephano were energetic and funny. Honeyman transformed even the meanest song in the play into a full-blown musical number. Therefore Trinculo and Stephano’s mumbled drunken song became a full evocation of the problems of sobriety, complete with four part instrumental backing.
This was a lively, energetic and colourful production. One punctuated with music, colour and dance. This was a production that celebrated African culture; that discussed the tension between white and black society. Coupled with a series of masterful performances this was one of the most interesting and enjoyable evenings I have spent at the theatre.

Twelfth Night at The Wyndhams Theatre

It was clear that Michael Grandage needed a popular play in order to follow up the success of the Donmar’s production of Ivanov that played earlier in the season. He chose Twelfth Night and then decided to cast Derek Jacobi as Malvolio, one of the most memorable comic characters in any of the Shakespeare’s plays. This was surely a production that promised much.
The production opened well; a bright thunderclap splitting the stage, as Mark Bonmar’s Orsino threw himself from the wings, roaring the famous ‘If music be the food of love, play on!’ speech at the audience, battling to be heard over the storm. Christopher Oram’s set was beautiful. A mottled, earthy-coloured floor giving the impression of rural majesty was constructed out of roughly hewn boards, which protruded over the rim of the stage toward the audience. The stage was framed by rough, wooden-slatted flats, which let in slants of sun and moonlight, creating a warm homely Mediterranean aesthetic. This was an atmosphere of fruitfulness and gaiety, the perfect setting for a play where the characters do little more than play games and flirt with each other. The flats were pulled up to reveal a cold, wind-swept beach. Victoria Hamilton’s shipwrecked Viola entered looking like a drowned mermaid, green dress and red hair plastered to her skin. This space was incompletely delineated, the backdrop consisting of a thick bank of fog that made it feel transient and impermanent.
Oram crafted a simplistic set where scene changes are suggested by the meanest of props, a sofa for a sitting room, and a windbreak for a beach. Malvolio’s prison became a trap door, which the other characters were free to stomp (and in the case of Feste, cartwheel) over, literally symbolising how far he had fallen.
We next met the absurdly drunken Sir Toby Belch played by the excellent Ron Cook, who staggers onstage tuxedo askew, streamers decking his hair. Along with Guy Henry’s ridiculously tall Sir Andrew he created a brilliantly funny double act, where neither character seemed to be aware of the physical differences in stature between them.
Zubin Varla was mesmerising as Feste. Launching himself onto the stage decked in a cloak the same colours as the set; he seemed at once to be a part of the stage at the same time as seeming to occupy a space outside of it. This was a Mediterranean Feste, a creature of mirth and jollity, never without his guitar. His song about love ‘Tis not hereafter’ performed perched on a battered sofa, framed by the two dilapidated knights created a striking image of the impermanency of love. You got a real sense of the sadness these characters felt beneath their fooling, especially when Sir Andrew whispered mournfully ‘I was loved once too’. These were characters of great depth. Cook’s Sir Toby hinted at a darker viciousness with the glee he showed at the thought of hurting Malvolio. Only Maria the maid, played by Samantha Spiro could save him. Normally an overlooked character, Spiro brought a depth and warmth to the character I had not seen before.
Of course the big draw was Derek Jacobi’s Malvolio. He made a dramatic entrance as he strode onto the stage, immaculately dressed and stiff backed. Drawing out the sounds of his opening line into a self-righteous purr that showed he considered himself above many of the other characters on stage. The flawlessness of Jacobi’s attire was in stark contrast to Sir Toby’s unkempt appearance. The audience had no cause to worry as Jacobi was on excellent form.
This was a world of steamy passion, where love and sex is at the forefront of many of the characters minds. When a wet Sebastian skipped onto the stage to be towelled dry by his companion Antonio, their intimacy hinted at a relationship deeper than mere friendship. Indira Varma portrayed Olivia as a more sexually charged character than I had seen previously. Her excitement at the prospect of there possibly being two Sebastian’s drew gales of laughter from the audience.
This was a production that never lacked energy and kept the audience rapt for the entire three hours. Unfortunately the romantic scenes were not nearly as entertaining as the comic ones. It was a blessing that the pace was so swift and fluid as it meant that the audience were quickly distracted from the inadequacies of lover’s scenes by the hilarity of the comic ones. I would have liked to see the relationship between Orsino and Viola, and Viola and Olivia explored further. Strangely, Hamilton’s Viola seemed uncomfortable when dressed as Cesario, seeming to be too womanish to be able to actually disguise herself as a man.
All in all, an evening of fine entertainment, a play that delivered jokes at breakneck speed that left me with a smile that lasted the whole train journey back home.