THE KING AND I
December 10, 2010
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, January 15, 2011
EVERYTHING about this production yells spectacle. From the opening Rank-style gong to the closing image shrinking cinematically to a pinpoint, we’re in grand-scale, filmic territory complete with screen projections, giant sets and lavish costumes.
Director Paul Kerryson makes fabulous use of all Curve’s opportunities, filling the enormous stage with thronging crowds, vast golden Buddhas and more satin than Graham Norton’s wardrobe. His clever exploitation of wonderful theatrical devices and every last inch of the space makes for a visual feast that begins before the overture has even sounded a note and lasts until the final dramatic curtain.
Designer Sara Perks has pulled out all the stops, beautifully aided by lighting (Philip Gladwell) and some crystal-clear sound (Ben Harrison), all of which contributes in a major way to the stunning success of the show.
If I tell you that everything from an elephant to fireworks is somehow evoked on the versatile and imaginative set, you’ll start to get some idea of the creativity at work.
On stage, Janie Dee – despite fighting a cold – puts in a charming and feisty performance as the governess Anna, who turns up in 1862 Siam to tutor some of the King’s 67 children. Opposite her, an eccentric but likeable Chook Sibtain reinvents the Yul Brynner role with a mixture of hair extensions and vocal mannerisms.
Some of the supporting characters are beautifully drawn, too, with Claire-Marie Hall particularly sensitive as the love-lorn Tup-Tim and Maya Sapone strong and resilient as chief wife Lady Thiang.
The sizeable chorus of kids are well drilled and delightful to watch, while the sometimes tedious second-act ballet of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s lesser-loved work is brought magically to life by a corps of superb, acrobatic dancers and tumblers.
And most notable of all, there’s a fantastic nine-piece band on stage throughout, brilliantly tight and lush under the baton of Julian Kelly, to hold the whole spectacular show together perfectly.
It may not be a traditionally festive choice, but The King And I is definitely in the royal class of Christmas shows.
A FESTIVAL OF FRIEL: TRANSLATIONS & MOLLY SWEENEY
November 18, 2010
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, December 4, 2010
THIS celebration of Northern Irish lyricism and the sheer exuberance of language is a well-earned tribute to the 81-year-old Brian Friel, best known for his play Dancing at Lughnasa.
On the face of it, there’s little to connect these two companion pieces beyond the wonderfully intimate setting of Curve’s Studio Theatre. They have different casts, different creative teams and very different styles.
Translations tells the story of the 19th Century mapping of Ireland by British armed forces, requirng the Anglicisation of place names and the consequent destruction of centuries of history and tradition. It’s told through the eyes of a group of Gaelic villagers in Friel’s pet location, the invented community of Ballybeg, and draws out its wider themes through the emotions and conflicts of the very personal relationships.
While the ear takes a while to become attuned to the strong accents, there’s poetry aplenty in the rich text, and director Mick Gordon stages a rich, conventional production that looks every bit as lush as the landscape it inhabits.
Performances are strong, too, with Emily Taaffe standing out as the wide-eyed local girl who falls fatefully for a British officer: symbolically, neither speaks the other’s language and the division becomes a metaphor for the tragedy that will follow the play’s end.
By contrast, Molly Sweeney is much more experimental in approach and structure, with three characters delivering a series of monologues more as storytellers than actors, peeling away the tale of the blind girl whose journey towards a kind of seeing is as poignant as it is intriguing.
Simone Kirby is immensely powerful as Molly, all optimistic concern for everyone else without a hint of resentment at being a guinea pig for both her husband and her eye doctor. Tom Vaughan-Lawlor, a late cast addition, judges husband Frank brilliantly, revealing a restless soul in search of a cause, who adopts Molly for just as long as her condition gives him something to fight for.
And Des McAleer, as the failed, whiskey-sodden ophthalmologist Mr Rice, who sees in Molly the chance to rescue his career, is superbly lugubrious, sombre and wistful. The title notwithstanding, this is as much about Frank and Mr Rice and their discoveries of self as it is about the feisty Molly.
And in the end, what connects the two pieces is Friel’s fantastic facility with words, his obvious delight in the sound of language and the texture of dialogue. In both productions, this extraordinary dexterity is well served.
MATTHEW BOURNE'S SWAN LAKE
September 20, 2010
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, September 25, 2010, then touring
INCREDIBLY, it’s 15 years since Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake first hit the stage for Sadler’s Wells and rewrote the way audiences look at ballet.
In his programme notes, Bourne reveals he’s revisited the production – and indeed he was in the Curve audience himself for this revamped version, launching yet another tour of the magical, masculine-skewed modern classic.
He should have been delighted. The piece, which is majestic, magnificent, monolithic in scale, still has the power to leave one’s jaw gaping at the sheer audacity of its imagination and technical skill. With iconic set and costume designs from collaborator Lez Brotherston, Bourne uses every dramatic trick at his disposal to tell the emotionally wrenching story of the Prince and his life-changing encounter with a swan.
This is really a drama without words, set to the climactic and lush music of Tchaikovsky. The only real quibble is the lack of a credit for the musicians, whose recorded score is uncredited but utterly central to the success of the production.
That said, the focus is entirely on what happens on stage, and here Bourne is wonderfully served by an extraordinary corps of performers. I’d say dancers, except that there is plenty of acting talent on show as well, not just among the principals but throughout the company, including the now famous male swans.
Dancing the Prince, Simon Williams is superb: his fluent, elegant movement is matched by his power to evoke real sympathy and the tragic finale is as moving as anything you’ll see on a stage.
Opposite him, Jonathan Ollivier is a commanding and imperious swan, doubling as the mysterious stranger at the palace ball and convincing in both roles.
Nina Goldman makes an icily distant Queen, while Maddy Bennan provides welcome comic relief as the Prince’s girlfriend, out of her social depth in royal circles.
It’s unconventional, arresting and visually stunning, and it comes highly recommended, even after all these years.
GUYS AND DOLLS
June 11, 2010
Kilworth House Theatre, Leicestershire, until July 4, 2010
NOW in its fourth year of professional summer shows, the open air theatre in the magnificent grounds of Leicestershire’s Kilworth House Hotel is fast becoming a highlight of the season.
The superb facilities, attentive volunteers and a pleasant summer evening all make a significant contribution to the success of the venture, which is the brainchild of owners Celia and Richard Mackay and the product of a creative collaboration with director Mitch Sebastian and musical director Matthew Freeman, as in previous years.
This time out, they have opted for the Frank Loesser musical Guys and Dolls, based on the witty and wonderful New York stories of Damon Runyon, and the thorough exploitation of the theme even extends to gangster hats worn by the car-park attendants.
In the production, Sebastian has thought of everything. On a stylised card-deck and craps table set (Charles Cusick Smith and Phil R Daniels), the fast-paced action is played out by a huge cast of… well, guys and dolls, who are never lacking in enthusiasm and commitment. Oh, and there’s a fabulous cameo by an airplane.
The band – sadly hidden away inside a kind of canvas box – are as tight and top-quality as you could hope for, making every musical number fizz with energy, while Sebastian’s choreographic credentials are evident throughout, with dance steps accompanying every song, and quite a bit of the dialogue too.
There are some strong supporting performances, with the dolls turning in a couple of great numbers as the Hot Box cabaret showgirls and Ian Mowat’s Harry the Horse leading the well-judged cameos among the guys. Jamie Golding almost steals the entire show as Nicely-Nicely Johnson with his perfectly-voiced rendition of Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat.
Among the principals, Sarah Ingram is the stand-out performer as the permanently engaged, never married Miss Adelaide. The voice, look and characterisation are spot on, and there’s some fine emotional heartstring-tugging in her two Laments.
Paul Baker is a wise-cracking, cheeky chappie of a Nathan Detroit, and if Paul Robinson and Lizzii Hills don’t quite hit the same levels as Sky Masterson and Sarah Brown, the momentum of the show is enough to carry it through and send the audience home smiling and tapping their feet.
SALOME
May 14, 2010
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, May 15, 2010, then touring
THINK Oscar Wilde and you’re almost certain to be in handbag territory. There’ll probably be some cucumber sandwiches about somewhere, and as likely as not a case of mistaken identity.
What you’re less likely to conjure up are images of extreme violence, borderline pornography and religious bigotry. And yet his early play Salome includes elements of all these things as Wilde experiments with theatrical form and the art of tragedy.
Telling the story of the stepdaughter of King Herod, whose notoriety stems from her demand for the head of John the Baptist as a reward for the dance of the seven veils, the play is lyrical, exotic and dark in the extreme.
Headlong Theatre – the artistic baby of renowned director Rupert Goold – gives it the full bleak treatment in this production directed by rising star Jamie Lloyd, who has also adapted the text for this 90-minute, no-interval version.
It’s set in a Mad Max-style future world, on a stage bordered by steel scaffolding and covered by a sandpit of black volcanic ash. Iokanaan – the John the Baptist character – is imprisoned underground, emerging in chains through a steel hatch to wail semi-incoherently at his captors. These include Herod himself, along with his wife Herodias and her daughter, the titular Salome.
Exploiting Herod’s drunken lasciviousness, the girl agrees to dance for him in return for his pledge of whatever she desires. Thus trapped, he is forced to give her the head of the prophet as the moon turns blood red and the world collapses in on him.
So far, so apocalyptic. Unfortunately, the concept doesn’t really hold together beneath the biblical or historical story, and it ends up being a stylised device that’s more about visual impact – impressive though this is – than illustrating any kind of message or meaning.
The normally reliable Con O’Neill is either suffering from severe laryngitis, or is wilfully delivering a bizarre performance rasped out in the upper reaches of his vocal range, resulting in a monotone rant which robs Wilde’s language of much of its efficacy.
Jaye Griffiths fares better as Herodias, part proud mother and part jealous rival, with every word crystal clear – a virtue not shared across the board in this energetic ragbag of a cast.
Crucially, Zawe Ashton as Salome is badly let down by the production, which forces her to play the teenage girl as a slutty, streetwise tart and transforms the pivotal erotic display into a crass lap-dancing striptease for her stepdad to masturbate over.
While there’s much of interest – including dramatic lighting (Jon Clark) and a stark set (Soutra Gilmour) – and Lloyd hints at drawing out something more powerful, the final result is full of sound and fury, but fails to signify anything much.
December 10, 2010
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, January 15, 2011
EVERYTHING about this production yells spectacle. From the opening Rank-style gong to the closing image shrinking cinematically to a pinpoint, we’re in grand-scale, filmic territory complete with screen projections, giant sets and lavish costumes.
Director Paul Kerryson makes fabulous use of all Curve’s opportunities, filling the enormous stage with thronging crowds, vast golden Buddhas and more satin than Graham Norton’s wardrobe. His clever exploitation of wonderful theatrical devices and every last inch of the space makes for a visual feast that begins before the overture has even sounded a note and lasts until the final dramatic curtain.
Designer Sara Perks has pulled out all the stops, beautifully aided by lighting (Philip Gladwell) and some crystal-clear sound (Ben Harrison), all of which contributes in a major way to the stunning success of the show.
If I tell you that everything from an elephant to fireworks is somehow evoked on the versatile and imaginative set, you’ll start to get some idea of the creativity at work.
On stage, Janie Dee – despite fighting a cold – puts in a charming and feisty performance as the governess Anna, who turns up in 1862 Siam to tutor some of the King’s 67 children. Opposite her, an eccentric but likeable Chook Sibtain reinvents the Yul Brynner role with a mixture of hair extensions and vocal mannerisms.
Some of the supporting characters are beautifully drawn, too, with Claire-Marie Hall particularly sensitive as the love-lorn Tup-Tim and Maya Sapone strong and resilient as chief wife Lady Thiang.
The sizeable chorus of kids are well drilled and delightful to watch, while the sometimes tedious second-act ballet of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s lesser-loved work is brought magically to life by a corps of superb, acrobatic dancers and tumblers.
And most notable of all, there’s a fantastic nine-piece band on stage throughout, brilliantly tight and lush under the baton of Julian Kelly, to hold the whole spectacular show together perfectly.
It may not be a traditionally festive choice, but The King And I is definitely in the royal class of Christmas shows.
A FESTIVAL OF FRIEL: TRANSLATIONS & MOLLY SWEENEY
November 18, 2010
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, December 4, 2010
THIS celebration of Northern Irish lyricism and the sheer exuberance of language is a well-earned tribute to the 81-year-old Brian Friel, best known for his play Dancing at Lughnasa.
On the face of it, there’s little to connect these two companion pieces beyond the wonderfully intimate setting of Curve’s Studio Theatre. They have different casts, different creative teams and very different styles.
Translations tells the story of the 19th Century mapping of Ireland by British armed forces, requirng the Anglicisation of place names and the consequent destruction of centuries of history and tradition. It’s told through the eyes of a group of Gaelic villagers in Friel’s pet location, the invented community of Ballybeg, and draws out its wider themes through the emotions and conflicts of the very personal relationships.
While the ear takes a while to become attuned to the strong accents, there’s poetry aplenty in the rich text, and director Mick Gordon stages a rich, conventional production that looks every bit as lush as the landscape it inhabits.
Performances are strong, too, with Emily Taaffe standing out as the wide-eyed local girl who falls fatefully for a British officer: symbolically, neither speaks the other’s language and the division becomes a metaphor for the tragedy that will follow the play’s end.
By contrast, Molly Sweeney is much more experimental in approach and structure, with three characters delivering a series of monologues more as storytellers than actors, peeling away the tale of the blind girl whose journey towards a kind of seeing is as poignant as it is intriguing.
Simone Kirby is immensely powerful as Molly, all optimistic concern for everyone else without a hint of resentment at being a guinea pig for both her husband and her eye doctor. Tom Vaughan-Lawlor, a late cast addition, judges husband Frank brilliantly, revealing a restless soul in search of a cause, who adopts Molly for just as long as her condition gives him something to fight for.
And Des McAleer, as the failed, whiskey-sodden ophthalmologist Mr Rice, who sees in Molly the chance to rescue his career, is superbly lugubrious, sombre and wistful. The title notwithstanding, this is as much about Frank and Mr Rice and their discoveries of self as it is about the feisty Molly.
And in the end, what connects the two pieces is Friel’s fantastic facility with words, his obvious delight in the sound of language and the texture of dialogue. In both productions, this extraordinary dexterity is well served.
MATTHEW BOURNE'S SWAN LAKE
September 20, 2010
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, September 25, 2010, then touring
INCREDIBLY, it’s 15 years since Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake first hit the stage for Sadler’s Wells and rewrote the way audiences look at ballet.
In his programme notes, Bourne reveals he’s revisited the production – and indeed he was in the Curve audience himself for this revamped version, launching yet another tour of the magical, masculine-skewed modern classic.
He should have been delighted. The piece, which is majestic, magnificent, monolithic in scale, still has the power to leave one’s jaw gaping at the sheer audacity of its imagination and technical skill. With iconic set and costume designs from collaborator Lez Brotherston, Bourne uses every dramatic trick at his disposal to tell the emotionally wrenching story of the Prince and his life-changing encounter with a swan.
This is really a drama without words, set to the climactic and lush music of Tchaikovsky. The only real quibble is the lack of a credit for the musicians, whose recorded score is uncredited but utterly central to the success of the production.
That said, the focus is entirely on what happens on stage, and here Bourne is wonderfully served by an extraordinary corps of performers. I’d say dancers, except that there is plenty of acting talent on show as well, not just among the principals but throughout the company, including the now famous male swans.
Dancing the Prince, Simon Williams is superb: his fluent, elegant movement is matched by his power to evoke real sympathy and the tragic finale is as moving as anything you’ll see on a stage.
Opposite him, Jonathan Ollivier is a commanding and imperious swan, doubling as the mysterious stranger at the palace ball and convincing in both roles.
Nina Goldman makes an icily distant Queen, while Maddy Bennan provides welcome comic relief as the Prince’s girlfriend, out of her social depth in royal circles.
It’s unconventional, arresting and visually stunning, and it comes highly recommended, even after all these years.
GUYS AND DOLLS
June 11, 2010
Kilworth House Theatre, Leicestershire, until July 4, 2010
NOW in its fourth year of professional summer shows, the open air theatre in the magnificent grounds of Leicestershire’s Kilworth House Hotel is fast becoming a highlight of the season.
The superb facilities, attentive volunteers and a pleasant summer evening all make a significant contribution to the success of the venture, which is the brainchild of owners Celia and Richard Mackay and the product of a creative collaboration with director Mitch Sebastian and musical director Matthew Freeman, as in previous years.
This time out, they have opted for the Frank Loesser musical Guys and Dolls, based on the witty and wonderful New York stories of Damon Runyon, and the thorough exploitation of the theme even extends to gangster hats worn by the car-park attendants.
In the production, Sebastian has thought of everything. On a stylised card-deck and craps table set (Charles Cusick Smith and Phil R Daniels), the fast-paced action is played out by a huge cast of… well, guys and dolls, who are never lacking in enthusiasm and commitment. Oh, and there’s a fabulous cameo by an airplane.
The band – sadly hidden away inside a kind of canvas box – are as tight and top-quality as you could hope for, making every musical number fizz with energy, while Sebastian’s choreographic credentials are evident throughout, with dance steps accompanying every song, and quite a bit of the dialogue too.
There are some strong supporting performances, with the dolls turning in a couple of great numbers as the Hot Box cabaret showgirls and Ian Mowat’s Harry the Horse leading the well-judged cameos among the guys. Jamie Golding almost steals the entire show as Nicely-Nicely Johnson with his perfectly-voiced rendition of Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat.
Among the principals, Sarah Ingram is the stand-out performer as the permanently engaged, never married Miss Adelaide. The voice, look and characterisation are spot on, and there’s some fine emotional heartstring-tugging in her two Laments.
Paul Baker is a wise-cracking, cheeky chappie of a Nathan Detroit, and if Paul Robinson and Lizzii Hills don’t quite hit the same levels as Sky Masterson and Sarah Brown, the momentum of the show is enough to carry it through and send the audience home smiling and tapping their feet.
SALOME
May 14, 2010
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, May 15, 2010, then touring
THINK Oscar Wilde and you’re almost certain to be in handbag territory. There’ll probably be some cucumber sandwiches about somewhere, and as likely as not a case of mistaken identity.
What you’re less likely to conjure up are images of extreme violence, borderline pornography and religious bigotry. And yet his early play Salome includes elements of all these things as Wilde experiments with theatrical form and the art of tragedy.
Telling the story of the stepdaughter of King Herod, whose notoriety stems from her demand for the head of John the Baptist as a reward for the dance of the seven veils, the play is lyrical, exotic and dark in the extreme.
Headlong Theatre – the artistic baby of renowned director Rupert Goold – gives it the full bleak treatment in this production directed by rising star Jamie Lloyd, who has also adapted the text for this 90-minute, no-interval version.
It’s set in a Mad Max-style future world, on a stage bordered by steel scaffolding and covered by a sandpit of black volcanic ash. Iokanaan – the John the Baptist character – is imprisoned underground, emerging in chains through a steel hatch to wail semi-incoherently at his captors. These include Herod himself, along with his wife Herodias and her daughter, the titular Salome.
Exploiting Herod’s drunken lasciviousness, the girl agrees to dance for him in return for his pledge of whatever she desires. Thus trapped, he is forced to give her the head of the prophet as the moon turns blood red and the world collapses in on him.
So far, so apocalyptic. Unfortunately, the concept doesn’t really hold together beneath the biblical or historical story, and it ends up being a stylised device that’s more about visual impact – impressive though this is – than illustrating any kind of message or meaning.
The normally reliable Con O’Neill is either suffering from severe laryngitis, or is wilfully delivering a bizarre performance rasped out in the upper reaches of his vocal range, resulting in a monotone rant which robs Wilde’s language of much of its efficacy.
Jaye Griffiths fares better as Herodias, part proud mother and part jealous rival, with every word crystal clear – a virtue not shared across the board in this energetic ragbag of a cast.
Crucially, Zawe Ashton as Salome is badly let down by the production, which forces her to play the teenage girl as a slutty, streetwise tart and transforms the pivotal erotic display into a crass lap-dancing striptease for her stepdad to masturbate over.
While there’s much of interest – including dramatic lighting (Jon Clark) and a stark set (Soutra Gilmour) – and Lloyd hints at drawing out something more powerful, the final result is full of sound and fury, but fails to signify anything much.
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