42nd STREET
December 30, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, January 21, 2012
LAST year the big Christmas Curve musical, The King and I, was so successful that it has been given an extended life with a national tour this spring.
And while the same success might not be on the cards for 42nd Street, there is still much in Paul Kerryson’s song-and-dance toe-tapper to keep Leicester audiences entertained through the long, cold winter nights.
In fact, the singing and dancing are right at the top of that list of benefits, with heaps of energy and razzmatazz on display throughout the company. And if Harry Warren and Al Dubin’s musical is a little thin on story and short on blockbusters, the tap-dancing of the ensemble and the delights of a 14-piece on-stage big band make up for the shortcomings.
Tim Flavin is a strong lead, too, as the director of a 1933 Broadway-bound musical facing obstacles of a personal and professional nature before it can hit the Big Apple. He has charisma in abundance and the only complaint is that he doesn’t get enough opportunity to show off his considerable talents.
Elsewhere, the acting doesn’t quite match up to the hoofing and warbling, but it’s a spectacle of a show so the cracks are easily papered over. A largely monochrome set design (Ashley Martin-Davis) also drains a little of the colour from the overall effect, but the enthusiasm and commitment of the large cast are, in the end, infectious, and the warmth flows in both directions across the footlights.
Not quite the barnstormer, then, but with plenty to recommend it.
ONE SNOWY NIGHT
December 22, 2011
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, January 7, 2012
ONE of the children’s highlights of the past few years has been the enchanting series of books about Percy the Park Keeper and his animal friends, written and illustrated by Nick Butterworth.
In some ways, it’s rather strange that it’s taken so long for this charming tale – the one that started it all off in 1989 – to reach the stage. But this delightfully rendered version, co-produced in Curve Studio by Seabright Productions, Slot Machine and Norden Farm, does the story proud.
A cast of just three is led by Colin Hurley as Percy, who strikes just the right note of cheery friendliness with audience and animals alike, while Amy Tweed and James Baldwin generate a host of imaginative characters from their puppet creatures and give them all a distinct life of their own, despite being fully visible themselves throughout.
The adaptation, by the Slot Machine trio of Nicola Blackwell, Fiona Creese and Nick Tigg, is faithful to the spirit of the original, while fleshing it out to almost an hour, including highly entertaining songs, plenty of visual fun and a great set and puppets designed by Amelia Pimlott.
It’s ostensibly aimed at two- to six-year-olds, and this age group among the audience are both receptive and enthusiastic. Personally, I wouldn’t restrict it to this upper age limit: this is a show with enough heart and festive joy to appeal to children more than forty years older than that…
BURIED CHILD
November 15, 2011
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, December 3, 2011
IT’S surely the big-name casting that is the selling point for Curve’s dark and disturbing pre-Christmas studio offering. It’s hard to know what else they think is going to shift tickets.
Matthew Kelly – yes, he of Game for a Laugh and Stars in Their Eyes – tops the bill in this production of Sam Shepard’s 1978 riff on the collapse of the American dream. It’s OK, though, because he originally trained as an actor and is actually rather good.
Kelly plays Dodge, the highly dysfunctional patriarch of a Midwestern American family locked somewhere vaguely in the post-war years. He barely moves from his tattered sofa, while the drama of his unravelling family and its grim secret (although not so secret since it’s given away in the title) unfolds around him, instigated by the arrival of his young grandson Vince and his new girlfriend after years away.
There are grotesque caricatures of rednecks, horribly plausible decaying relationships and some frankly impenetrable dialogue in Shepard’s weird and inscrutable script, which unaccountably won a Pulitzer Prize.
In the hands of director Paul Kerryson, the play motors pacily through its three acts, although the point is often obscure and the reason for resurrecting the piece at all remains something of a mystery.
It looks amazing, though, thanks to a bold set design by Paul Willis, which makes much use of the stark oppressiveness of the house and the thematically crucial fields of corn. The players are placed – quite literally at certain moments – in the middle of the landscape that has moulded this horrific family, and it’s as powerful a statement as anything Shepard plumbs from the words.
This visual masterstroke is echoed by strong performances from Matthew Rixon and Michael Beckley as the warring brothers, and a feisty Catrin Stewart as the girlfriend whose plain-speaking normality provides the catalyst for the revelation.
But it’s pretty daunting stuff, both in terms of subject matter and conclusions drawn, and the tinkling of Christmas bells seems just that bit further away after being exposed to it.
ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST
October 19, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, November 5, 2011
AMAZINGLY, it’s almost 50 years since Ken Kesey’s groundbreaking novel was first published, and almost as long since Dale Wasserman’s stage adaptation. Between them and the 1975 film version (starring Jack Nicholson), they changed the way electroconvulsive therapy was viewed and challenged the psychiatric orthodoxy of the time.
As classics of their type – particularly Nicholson’s Oscar-winning turn as the insanity-faking petty criminal Randle P McMurphy – they serve as interesting period pieces. But do they stand the test of time?
In Michael Buffong’s straightforward, down-the-line production for Curve, the play seems uncomplicated, rather dated and a little preachy. The distinctions between the docile, sparkless inmates of the psychiatric ward and the disciplinarian, clinical coldness of the staff are drawn in stark black and white, offering an un-nuanced metaphor for American society and its treatment of outsiders and rebels.
The harshness of the polarisation is reflected in the performances, too, with Michael Beckley’s brash and swaggering McMurphy played from the outset as a direct personal challenge to Catherine Russell’s icy Nurse Ratched. Elsewhere, some extraordinary supporting work among the inmates provides grim fascination for the viewer but little in the way of enlightenment or colour.
Thomas Renshaw is a powerful exception, investing his Red Indian Chief Bromden with gravitas and pathos and grounding the piece firmly with his strong-but-silent enormity and authority.
An impressive set by Ellen Cairns and some judicious lighting and sound (Mark Howland and Jack C Arnold respectively) help considerably with mood and tone, and the second act takes off emotionally in a way the first never quite manages.
But the raw impact it must have had in 1963, when Kirk Douglas first played McMurphy off Broadway, has somehow been diluted across the years, leaving a solid if unremarkable production.
LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS
August 19, 2011
Kilworth House Theatre, Leicestershire, until September 11, 2011
One of the defining qualities of Kilworth House Theatre productions is their simple pleasure in existing. The venue might only have opened in 2007, the audiences might still be finding their way to this quiet Leicestershire backwater, but every production the creative team turn out is marked with this same boisterous love for what they’re doing.
After reviving the inaugural production of The Pirates of Penzance earlier in the summer, director Mitch Sebastian and his musical oppo Matthew Freeman have turned to a much more recent but no less popular choice, Little Shop of Horrors.
The Alan Menken-Howard Ashman musical from 1982 takes the plot of Roger Corman’s 1960 schlock-horror B-movie and weaves it into a toe-tapping show of black humour, catchy songs and sparky characters.
And with a versatile and clever set from Sean Cavanagh, a talented five-piece band and a spectacular (if temperamental) man-eating plant courtesy of designer Fiona Viccars, it’s a production that exploits all the dark and twisted humour of the words and lyrics.
Performances are strong throughout, with Stuart Neal superb as Seymour, the no-hope florist’s assistant on Skid Row whose chance discovery of a mystery plant leads to the mayhem that follows. Joanna Woodward is ditzy and delightful as his love interest Audrey, while Kraig Thorber makes a great cameo out of the moderately thankless character of the shop owner Mushnik.
Steven Serlin gets the chance to show off a multitude of skills as the evil dentist Orin and a host of other minor characters, while Ako Mitchell (voice) and David Pendlebury (manipulation) turn the plant, Audrey II, into a comic monster of epic proportions.
There are odd quibbles. With such a powerful set-up at their disposal, for instance, it should be possible for the sound engineers to make the all-important vocals rather more audible than they are at certain moments, and there could be some tightening up to be done in the lighting and technical departments.
But as MD, Freeman helms the performance effectively from a vantage point high above the stage, and Sebastian’s sure touch as a choreographer helps to keep things moving swiftly and efficiently along. Between them they ensure another success in the impressive line of Kilworth House triumphs.
THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE
June 10, 2011
Kilworth House Theatre, Leicestershire, until Sunday July 3, 2011
IT may only be in its fifth season, but Kilworth House Theatre is already reviving former triumphs. The Pirates of Penzance is the show that opened this amazing open-air permanent venue in the grounds of a Leicestershire country house hotel, and now it’s back for another outing.
It has the same creative force as every other Kilworth in-house production behind it – director/choreographer Mitch Sebastian and musical director Matthew Freeman – and shares with them all the same vitalilty, energy and sheer joie de vivre.
There’s never a moment when you’re in any doubt that the cast, band and even volunteer front-of-house staff are having a whale of a time. It blasts across the footlights and grabs the audience by the throat, and in spite of the coolness of an early summer night by the time the metaphorical curtain calls, there’s nothing but warmth going back the other way.
This production is full of wit, life and charm, with impressive designs from Libby Watson and subtle lighting from Chris Davey, while sound designer Chris Whybrow enables the voices to be heard clearly over the amplified orchestra even with the limitations of an open-air venue.
Among the performances, Graham Hoadly and Dickon Gough stand out as a fabulous Major-General and show-stealing Police Sergeant respectively, both displaying fine singing voices and considerable comedy talents.
Meanwhile, Peter Horton is a mellifluous young lead as Frederic, while the corps of pirates and policemen are superbly drilled and full of humorous invention.
There is some fine-tuning to be done elsewhere, notably in the occasionally wayward string section of the band, and some of the other principals incline towards the pantomimic – always a danger with G&S, though in my view unnecessary – but there’s enough exuberance and fun about the whole enterprise to outweigh any shortcomings and send the audience home with a rousing ‘Huzzah!’ to counter the chill in the bones.
ABSURD PERSON SINGULAR
May 10, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, May 28, 2011
One of Alan Ayckbourn’s acknowledged classics, Absurd Person Singular gets a solidly entertaining outing with a distinctly political undertone in this Curve production.
Set around the time of its writing – somewhere in the early 70s – Paul Kerryson’s meticulously designed version leans heavily on the notion (easy with hindsight) that Ayckbourn’s 1972 play predicted the approach of Thatcherism and all its concomitant implications: the rise of the little man, the triumph of selfishness over altruism and the glorification of the self-made man.
So the show begins with a giant black-and-white photograph of the Blessed Margaret doing the dishes, which heralds both the political message and the relentless domesticity of the farce that is to come.
Three kitchens, three successive Christmases, three couples whose fortunes wax and wane with the passing of the years. The craft of Ayckbourn’s writing is joyously explored and equally joyously played by the cast of six, who relish the viciousness of the lines they are given and the contrasts of emotion which they all ultimately undergo.
Designer Juliet Shillingford must take much of the credit for her ingenious and evocative sets, which somehow shrink the vast Curve stage to the intimacies required for the claustrophobic settings. And director Kerryson clearly has an eye for a powerful image, exploiting every possible laugh from the unfolding chaos.
The performances are generally sound, with each character making a transformative journey through the three acts. Louise Plowright is particularly strong as the drink-sodden Marion, while Joseph Alessi gives full rein to the emerging dictator inside the seemingly mild-mannered Sidney.
There is the occasional feeling that the comedy is being overplayed, when the text is enough, and for all the pyrotechnics of the perfectly-choreographed farce the evening somehow doesn’t quite catch fire in the way it might.
But the first-night audience was rapturous, and there is undoubtedly a production of great skill and well-crafted entertainment for those who like their laughs heavily laced with venom.
TIME FOR THE GOOD LOOKING BOY
March 30, 2011
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, April 2, 2011
Any professional theatre venue staging any new writing, particularly in the current cuts climate, has to be warmly applauded.
But it’s not just for the principles involved that Time for the Good Looking Boy deserves praise and attention. The fact is, it’s also a powerful piece of theatre and a personal coup for its one-man star.
Lloyd Thomas commands the Curve Studio for more than an hour, single-handedly, by sheer force of his personality. As the unnamed 18-year-old Boy in Michael Wicherek’s intriguing, slow-burn narrative, he plays out a meticulously plotted, cleverly worked tale as he reveals an increasingly disturbing back story with devastating consequences.
But that’s not to say that the piece is bleak, by any means. In fact, the playfulness of the language, the exuberance of the performance and the fact (almost unnoticed but crucial to the rhythm and pacing) that it’s actually written in iambic pentameter and rhyming couplets, all combine to make it a highly enjoyable, choreographed dance of storytelling.
Despite the show’s genesis over the course of around three years, with some tweaking apparent along the way, there are flaws – among them an unhelpful set of crude simplicity and some variable lighting effects.
But by way of counterbalance there’s a really strong, evocative soundtrack from composer Jon Nicholls, which helps to locate the Boy in his environment and gives him a clear foundation for the heightened use of language and stylistic quirks.
Director Iqbal Khan makes some bold dramatic decisions, which for the most part pay off handsomely – including a denouement of striking simplicity and deep poignancy.
SHAUN'S BIG SHOW
March 18, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Sunday, March 20, 2011, then touring
He’s one of the newer stars of the Aardman Animation firmament, another Nick Park creation with a cult status to match that of Wallace and Gromit and the Creature Comforts.
And the typical Aardman/Park wit, cleverness and sheer lovability are all part of the reason why Shaun the Sheep has assumed semi-mythical proportions among the student and adult population, just as much as the under-fives for whom it is ostensibly made.
Now veteran children’s playwright David Wood has brought the ovine superstar to life on stage in what is billed as “a music and dance extravaganza” under the title Shaun’s Big Show.
All the television favourites are there, from the Farmer and his beanie-wearing dog Bitzer to the Naughty Pigs and, of course, the sheep themselves – including Shaun, Shirley and little Timmy.
The problem for any adaptor is that the original contains no dialogue: everything is played out as a dumbshow in which the sheep exercise human characteristics until a human happens to be passing, when they revert to four-legged animal mode to keep up the façade.
The solution is to make this show one long song-and-dance routine with a load of talented youngsters dressed up in woolly outfits and moulded heads. And a lot of the time it works. There are some fantastic numbers woven into a loose kind of narrative, with the set pieces including a Riverdance line-up of cloven-hoofers, a barnyard disco with sequinned sows and even a sheepish Swan Lake performed by what I can only describe as a corps de baa-let.
It has to be said that the joke wears a little thin after 90-odd minutes – for the grown-ups, at least – but there is endless amusement to be found in the wonderfully inventive score, which manages to quote the catchy television theme tune in every piece of music it uses, from Tchaikovsky to the Bee Gees. This is the best joke of all, in spite of being pre-recorded, and adds a touch of brilliance to what could easily be a run-of-the-mill exercise in keeping the kids happy.
THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG
February 18, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, February 26, 2011, then Gielgud Theatre, London
It’s brave, ambitious and full of typical Kneehigh verve and invention. It’s also something of a heroic failure.
Kneehigh, who have made their name with imaginative, bold productions including the recent hugely successful Brief Encounter, make another assault on conventional preconceptions and fixed ideas about what constitutes theatre.
Director and adaptor Emma Rice has collaborated with veteran French composer Michel Legrand to turn the 1964 film for which he wrote the score into this co-production with Curve, transferring into the West End next month. I hesitate to use the word musical since – although entirely sung – it bears little resemblance to any standard definition of that genre.
To be fair, Kneehigh describe the entertainment as “a French romance that just happens to be sung”, so it does what it says on the tin, at least. But the relentless sung dialogue set against a non-stop backdrop of vaguely jazzy muzak becomes tiresome all too quickly, like an opera with no arias, and creates a barrier to the story, rather than enhancing it.
Mind you, the story itself is pretty flimsy. The original Jacques Demy film had a young Catherine Deneuve as the 17-year-old Genevieve, whose love for a 20-year-old mechanic departing for two years’ national service leaves her with a quandary when she discovers she’s pregnant.
Unfortunately, there’s nowhere near enough story or drama in this will-she-won’t-she dichotomy to sustain two hours – a fact implicitly recognised by the decision to include several large chunks of extraneous faux-French cabaret material, performed thrillingly but superfluously by cabaret star Meow Meow.
In its favour, the production boasts a catalogue of brilliant ideas and clever theatrical devices, from an evocative miniature Cherbourg to the fade into grainy film at the end, and there are constant scatter-gunned flashes of wit and invention.
Performances, too, are consistently strong, with Joanna Riding particularly powerful as Genevieve’s protective mother and Cynthia Erivo giving a touching, innocent interpretation of the lovelorn “girl next door” Madeleine. The on-stage band, led by chain-smoking grand pianist Nigel Lilley, are also sensational, providing loads of texture and interest throughout the complex, difficult score.
In the end, though, the sparkling, vivacious production struggles to carry the piece, which amounts to little more than a pretty diversion. But if you concentrate on the journey and its fast-changing scenery, rather than the ultimate destination, there’s much to enjoy along the way.
December 30, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, January 21, 2012
LAST year the big Christmas Curve musical, The King and I, was so successful that it has been given an extended life with a national tour this spring.
And while the same success might not be on the cards for 42nd Street, there is still much in Paul Kerryson’s song-and-dance toe-tapper to keep Leicester audiences entertained through the long, cold winter nights.
In fact, the singing and dancing are right at the top of that list of benefits, with heaps of energy and razzmatazz on display throughout the company. And if Harry Warren and Al Dubin’s musical is a little thin on story and short on blockbusters, the tap-dancing of the ensemble and the delights of a 14-piece on-stage big band make up for the shortcomings.
Tim Flavin is a strong lead, too, as the director of a 1933 Broadway-bound musical facing obstacles of a personal and professional nature before it can hit the Big Apple. He has charisma in abundance and the only complaint is that he doesn’t get enough opportunity to show off his considerable talents.
Elsewhere, the acting doesn’t quite match up to the hoofing and warbling, but it’s a spectacle of a show so the cracks are easily papered over. A largely monochrome set design (Ashley Martin-Davis) also drains a little of the colour from the overall effect, but the enthusiasm and commitment of the large cast are, in the end, infectious, and the warmth flows in both directions across the footlights.
Not quite the barnstormer, then, but with plenty to recommend it.
ONE SNOWY NIGHT
December 22, 2011
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, January 7, 2012
ONE of the children’s highlights of the past few years has been the enchanting series of books about Percy the Park Keeper and his animal friends, written and illustrated by Nick Butterworth.
In some ways, it’s rather strange that it’s taken so long for this charming tale – the one that started it all off in 1989 – to reach the stage. But this delightfully rendered version, co-produced in Curve Studio by Seabright Productions, Slot Machine and Norden Farm, does the story proud.
A cast of just three is led by Colin Hurley as Percy, who strikes just the right note of cheery friendliness with audience and animals alike, while Amy Tweed and James Baldwin generate a host of imaginative characters from their puppet creatures and give them all a distinct life of their own, despite being fully visible themselves throughout.
The adaptation, by the Slot Machine trio of Nicola Blackwell, Fiona Creese and Nick Tigg, is faithful to the spirit of the original, while fleshing it out to almost an hour, including highly entertaining songs, plenty of visual fun and a great set and puppets designed by Amelia Pimlott.
It’s ostensibly aimed at two- to six-year-olds, and this age group among the audience are both receptive and enthusiastic. Personally, I wouldn’t restrict it to this upper age limit: this is a show with enough heart and festive joy to appeal to children more than forty years older than that…
BURIED CHILD
November 15, 2011
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, December 3, 2011
IT’S surely the big-name casting that is the selling point for Curve’s dark and disturbing pre-Christmas studio offering. It’s hard to know what else they think is going to shift tickets.
Matthew Kelly – yes, he of Game for a Laugh and Stars in Their Eyes – tops the bill in this production of Sam Shepard’s 1978 riff on the collapse of the American dream. It’s OK, though, because he originally trained as an actor and is actually rather good.
Kelly plays Dodge, the highly dysfunctional patriarch of a Midwestern American family locked somewhere vaguely in the post-war years. He barely moves from his tattered sofa, while the drama of his unravelling family and its grim secret (although not so secret since it’s given away in the title) unfolds around him, instigated by the arrival of his young grandson Vince and his new girlfriend after years away.
There are grotesque caricatures of rednecks, horribly plausible decaying relationships and some frankly impenetrable dialogue in Shepard’s weird and inscrutable script, which unaccountably won a Pulitzer Prize.
In the hands of director Paul Kerryson, the play motors pacily through its three acts, although the point is often obscure and the reason for resurrecting the piece at all remains something of a mystery.
It looks amazing, though, thanks to a bold set design by Paul Willis, which makes much use of the stark oppressiveness of the house and the thematically crucial fields of corn. The players are placed – quite literally at certain moments – in the middle of the landscape that has moulded this horrific family, and it’s as powerful a statement as anything Shepard plumbs from the words.
This visual masterstroke is echoed by strong performances from Matthew Rixon and Michael Beckley as the warring brothers, and a feisty Catrin Stewart as the girlfriend whose plain-speaking normality provides the catalyst for the revelation.
But it’s pretty daunting stuff, both in terms of subject matter and conclusions drawn, and the tinkling of Christmas bells seems just that bit further away after being exposed to it.
ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST
October 19, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, November 5, 2011
AMAZINGLY, it’s almost 50 years since Ken Kesey’s groundbreaking novel was first published, and almost as long since Dale Wasserman’s stage adaptation. Between them and the 1975 film version (starring Jack Nicholson), they changed the way electroconvulsive therapy was viewed and challenged the psychiatric orthodoxy of the time.
As classics of their type – particularly Nicholson’s Oscar-winning turn as the insanity-faking petty criminal Randle P McMurphy – they serve as interesting period pieces. But do they stand the test of time?
In Michael Buffong’s straightforward, down-the-line production for Curve, the play seems uncomplicated, rather dated and a little preachy. The distinctions between the docile, sparkless inmates of the psychiatric ward and the disciplinarian, clinical coldness of the staff are drawn in stark black and white, offering an un-nuanced metaphor for American society and its treatment of outsiders and rebels.
The harshness of the polarisation is reflected in the performances, too, with Michael Beckley’s brash and swaggering McMurphy played from the outset as a direct personal challenge to Catherine Russell’s icy Nurse Ratched. Elsewhere, some extraordinary supporting work among the inmates provides grim fascination for the viewer but little in the way of enlightenment or colour.
Thomas Renshaw is a powerful exception, investing his Red Indian Chief Bromden with gravitas and pathos and grounding the piece firmly with his strong-but-silent enormity and authority.
An impressive set by Ellen Cairns and some judicious lighting and sound (Mark Howland and Jack C Arnold respectively) help considerably with mood and tone, and the second act takes off emotionally in a way the first never quite manages.
But the raw impact it must have had in 1963, when Kirk Douglas first played McMurphy off Broadway, has somehow been diluted across the years, leaving a solid if unremarkable production.
LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS
August 19, 2011
Kilworth House Theatre, Leicestershire, until September 11, 2011
One of the defining qualities of Kilworth House Theatre productions is their simple pleasure in existing. The venue might only have opened in 2007, the audiences might still be finding their way to this quiet Leicestershire backwater, but every production the creative team turn out is marked with this same boisterous love for what they’re doing.
After reviving the inaugural production of The Pirates of Penzance earlier in the summer, director Mitch Sebastian and his musical oppo Matthew Freeman have turned to a much more recent but no less popular choice, Little Shop of Horrors.
The Alan Menken-Howard Ashman musical from 1982 takes the plot of Roger Corman’s 1960 schlock-horror B-movie and weaves it into a toe-tapping show of black humour, catchy songs and sparky characters.
And with a versatile and clever set from Sean Cavanagh, a talented five-piece band and a spectacular (if temperamental) man-eating plant courtesy of designer Fiona Viccars, it’s a production that exploits all the dark and twisted humour of the words and lyrics.
Performances are strong throughout, with Stuart Neal superb as Seymour, the no-hope florist’s assistant on Skid Row whose chance discovery of a mystery plant leads to the mayhem that follows. Joanna Woodward is ditzy and delightful as his love interest Audrey, while Kraig Thorber makes a great cameo out of the moderately thankless character of the shop owner Mushnik.
Steven Serlin gets the chance to show off a multitude of skills as the evil dentist Orin and a host of other minor characters, while Ako Mitchell (voice) and David Pendlebury (manipulation) turn the plant, Audrey II, into a comic monster of epic proportions.
There are odd quibbles. With such a powerful set-up at their disposal, for instance, it should be possible for the sound engineers to make the all-important vocals rather more audible than they are at certain moments, and there could be some tightening up to be done in the lighting and technical departments.
But as MD, Freeman helms the performance effectively from a vantage point high above the stage, and Sebastian’s sure touch as a choreographer helps to keep things moving swiftly and efficiently along. Between them they ensure another success in the impressive line of Kilworth House triumphs.
THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE
June 10, 2011
Kilworth House Theatre, Leicestershire, until Sunday July 3, 2011
IT may only be in its fifth season, but Kilworth House Theatre is already reviving former triumphs. The Pirates of Penzance is the show that opened this amazing open-air permanent venue in the grounds of a Leicestershire country house hotel, and now it’s back for another outing.
It has the same creative force as every other Kilworth in-house production behind it – director/choreographer Mitch Sebastian and musical director Matthew Freeman – and shares with them all the same vitalilty, energy and sheer joie de vivre.
There’s never a moment when you’re in any doubt that the cast, band and even volunteer front-of-house staff are having a whale of a time. It blasts across the footlights and grabs the audience by the throat, and in spite of the coolness of an early summer night by the time the metaphorical curtain calls, there’s nothing but warmth going back the other way.
This production is full of wit, life and charm, with impressive designs from Libby Watson and subtle lighting from Chris Davey, while sound designer Chris Whybrow enables the voices to be heard clearly over the amplified orchestra even with the limitations of an open-air venue.
Among the performances, Graham Hoadly and Dickon Gough stand out as a fabulous Major-General and show-stealing Police Sergeant respectively, both displaying fine singing voices and considerable comedy talents.
Meanwhile, Peter Horton is a mellifluous young lead as Frederic, while the corps of pirates and policemen are superbly drilled and full of humorous invention.
There is some fine-tuning to be done elsewhere, notably in the occasionally wayward string section of the band, and some of the other principals incline towards the pantomimic – always a danger with G&S, though in my view unnecessary – but there’s enough exuberance and fun about the whole enterprise to outweigh any shortcomings and send the audience home with a rousing ‘Huzzah!’ to counter the chill in the bones.
ABSURD PERSON SINGULAR
May 10, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, May 28, 2011
One of Alan Ayckbourn’s acknowledged classics, Absurd Person Singular gets a solidly entertaining outing with a distinctly political undertone in this Curve production.
Set around the time of its writing – somewhere in the early 70s – Paul Kerryson’s meticulously designed version leans heavily on the notion (easy with hindsight) that Ayckbourn’s 1972 play predicted the approach of Thatcherism and all its concomitant implications: the rise of the little man, the triumph of selfishness over altruism and the glorification of the self-made man.
So the show begins with a giant black-and-white photograph of the Blessed Margaret doing the dishes, which heralds both the political message and the relentless domesticity of the farce that is to come.
Three kitchens, three successive Christmases, three couples whose fortunes wax and wane with the passing of the years. The craft of Ayckbourn’s writing is joyously explored and equally joyously played by the cast of six, who relish the viciousness of the lines they are given and the contrasts of emotion which they all ultimately undergo.
Designer Juliet Shillingford must take much of the credit for her ingenious and evocative sets, which somehow shrink the vast Curve stage to the intimacies required for the claustrophobic settings. And director Kerryson clearly has an eye for a powerful image, exploiting every possible laugh from the unfolding chaos.
The performances are generally sound, with each character making a transformative journey through the three acts. Louise Plowright is particularly strong as the drink-sodden Marion, while Joseph Alessi gives full rein to the emerging dictator inside the seemingly mild-mannered Sidney.
There is the occasional feeling that the comedy is being overplayed, when the text is enough, and for all the pyrotechnics of the perfectly-choreographed farce the evening somehow doesn’t quite catch fire in the way it might.
But the first-night audience was rapturous, and there is undoubtedly a production of great skill and well-crafted entertainment for those who like their laughs heavily laced with venom.
TIME FOR THE GOOD LOOKING BOY
March 30, 2011
Curve Studio, Leicester, until Saturday, April 2, 2011
Any professional theatre venue staging any new writing, particularly in the current cuts climate, has to be warmly applauded.
But it’s not just for the principles involved that Time for the Good Looking Boy deserves praise and attention. The fact is, it’s also a powerful piece of theatre and a personal coup for its one-man star.
Lloyd Thomas commands the Curve Studio for more than an hour, single-handedly, by sheer force of his personality. As the unnamed 18-year-old Boy in Michael Wicherek’s intriguing, slow-burn narrative, he plays out a meticulously plotted, cleverly worked tale as he reveals an increasingly disturbing back story with devastating consequences.
But that’s not to say that the piece is bleak, by any means. In fact, the playfulness of the language, the exuberance of the performance and the fact (almost unnoticed but crucial to the rhythm and pacing) that it’s actually written in iambic pentameter and rhyming couplets, all combine to make it a highly enjoyable, choreographed dance of storytelling.
Despite the show’s genesis over the course of around three years, with some tweaking apparent along the way, there are flaws – among them an unhelpful set of crude simplicity and some variable lighting effects.
But by way of counterbalance there’s a really strong, evocative soundtrack from composer Jon Nicholls, which helps to locate the Boy in his environment and gives him a clear foundation for the heightened use of language and stylistic quirks.
Director Iqbal Khan makes some bold dramatic decisions, which for the most part pay off handsomely – including a denouement of striking simplicity and deep poignancy.
SHAUN'S BIG SHOW
March 18, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Sunday, March 20, 2011, then touring
He’s one of the newer stars of the Aardman Animation firmament, another Nick Park creation with a cult status to match that of Wallace and Gromit and the Creature Comforts.
And the typical Aardman/Park wit, cleverness and sheer lovability are all part of the reason why Shaun the Sheep has assumed semi-mythical proportions among the student and adult population, just as much as the under-fives for whom it is ostensibly made.
Now veteran children’s playwright David Wood has brought the ovine superstar to life on stage in what is billed as “a music and dance extravaganza” under the title Shaun’s Big Show.
All the television favourites are there, from the Farmer and his beanie-wearing dog Bitzer to the Naughty Pigs and, of course, the sheep themselves – including Shaun, Shirley and little Timmy.
The problem for any adaptor is that the original contains no dialogue: everything is played out as a dumbshow in which the sheep exercise human characteristics until a human happens to be passing, when they revert to four-legged animal mode to keep up the façade.
The solution is to make this show one long song-and-dance routine with a load of talented youngsters dressed up in woolly outfits and moulded heads. And a lot of the time it works. There are some fantastic numbers woven into a loose kind of narrative, with the set pieces including a Riverdance line-up of cloven-hoofers, a barnyard disco with sequinned sows and even a sheepish Swan Lake performed by what I can only describe as a corps de baa-let.
It has to be said that the joke wears a little thin after 90-odd minutes – for the grown-ups, at least – but there is endless amusement to be found in the wonderfully inventive score, which manages to quote the catchy television theme tune in every piece of music it uses, from Tchaikovsky to the Bee Gees. This is the best joke of all, in spite of being pre-recorded, and adds a touch of brilliance to what could easily be a run-of-the-mill exercise in keeping the kids happy.
THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG
February 18, 2011
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, February 26, 2011, then Gielgud Theatre, London
It’s brave, ambitious and full of typical Kneehigh verve and invention. It’s also something of a heroic failure.
Kneehigh, who have made their name with imaginative, bold productions including the recent hugely successful Brief Encounter, make another assault on conventional preconceptions and fixed ideas about what constitutes theatre.
Director and adaptor Emma Rice has collaborated with veteran French composer Michel Legrand to turn the 1964 film for which he wrote the score into this co-production with Curve, transferring into the West End next month. I hesitate to use the word musical since – although entirely sung – it bears little resemblance to any standard definition of that genre.
To be fair, Kneehigh describe the entertainment as “a French romance that just happens to be sung”, so it does what it says on the tin, at least. But the relentless sung dialogue set against a non-stop backdrop of vaguely jazzy muzak becomes tiresome all too quickly, like an opera with no arias, and creates a barrier to the story, rather than enhancing it.
Mind you, the story itself is pretty flimsy. The original Jacques Demy film had a young Catherine Deneuve as the 17-year-old Genevieve, whose love for a 20-year-old mechanic departing for two years’ national service leaves her with a quandary when she discovers she’s pregnant.
Unfortunately, there’s nowhere near enough story or drama in this will-she-won’t-she dichotomy to sustain two hours – a fact implicitly recognised by the decision to include several large chunks of extraneous faux-French cabaret material, performed thrillingly but superfluously by cabaret star Meow Meow.
In its favour, the production boasts a catalogue of brilliant ideas and clever theatrical devices, from an evocative miniature Cherbourg to the fade into grainy film at the end, and there are constant scatter-gunned flashes of wit and invention.
Performances, too, are consistently strong, with Joanna Riding particularly powerful as Genevieve’s protective mother and Cynthia Erivo giving a touching, innocent interpretation of the lovelorn “girl next door” Madeleine. The on-stage band, led by chain-smoking grand pianist Nigel Lilley, are also sensational, providing loads of texture and interest throughout the complex, difficult score.
In the end, though, the sparkling, vivacious production struggles to carry the piece, which amounts to little more than a pretty diversion. But if you concentrate on the journey and its fast-changing scenery, rather than the ultimate destination, there’s much to enjoy along the way.
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