CINDERELLA
December 19, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until January 11, 2009
AFTER the disappointment of David Essex’s panto debut as Captain Hook last year, you might have expected producers Qdos to play it safe this time around.
And in the sense that this is a rollicking, traditional offering of “the greatest panto of them all” (to quote the publicity), they have. But where they’ve taken a huge chance is putting another first-timer in the substantial and pivotal role of Buttons.
With hindsight it doesn’t actually seem that much of a gamble: their choice, one Jimmy Osmond, is an entertainer of such vast experience and unbounded charm that he could have grunted the part while dressed in a bin bag and still won the audience over.
As it is, he’s a panto natural, revelling in the audience participation, twinkling with self-deprecating gags and loving the rapport he strikes up through a whirlwind medley of his old hits, including – yes, it’s here – Long-Haired Lover from Liverpool.
Around him he’s got some great support, too, in the shape of Peter Piper as an engaging, knockabout Baron Hardup, and two sassy ugly sisters, Brian Godfrey and Darren Southworth.
The whole thing looks great, thanks to an uncredited designer, and is spectacularly stolen by Ian Lucken’s Shetland ponies in a delightful transformation scene, complete with snow.
There are minor gripes – my inevitable whinge about the lack of a live band, the fact that the pace flags worryingly in parts – but there’s no denying the fantastic response of the thoroughly mixed audience and the sheer winning enthusiasm of the cast.
Royal & Derngate has already announced Snow White as next year’s seasonal offering. Here’s hoping the upward trend continues.
THE WIZARD OF OZ
December 5, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until January 11, 2009
JUST occasionally a show comes along that is really hard to review. The Wizard of Oz is one. It’s ambitious, it’s exciting, it’s full of ideas and it’s a terrific alternative to more traditional festive fare. All of these things are totally in keeping with the current trend at Royal & Derngate under artistic director Laurie Sansom, and are to be thoroughly commended.
And if the whole doesn’t quite live up to the promise of its parts, maybe that’s more to do with the scale of the ambition, rather than any inherent shortcomings.
Sansom is nothing if not epic-minded. Taking on such an iconic classic is a challenge that would deter many a wizened old director, but it’s one that Sansom clearly relishes.
All the things that make the Judy Garland movie so magnificent – from the juxtaposition of black-and-white with glorious rainbow colours, to the genuine love shared between the four travellers (five if you count Toto) – are seized on with enthusiasm and exploited to full advantage.
Natalie Burt is a wonderful stand-in for Judy herself, the ringlets and ruby-lipped smile as evocative as the gingham dress. She sings, moves and acts with confidence and considerable talent, and is completely at ease carrying both the show and the scene-stealing Toto.
Her companions are delightful too – Marc Pickering as a loveable scarecrow, Darren J Fawthrop a suitably uptight tin man and Harry Morrison a cuddly old lion – and their set pieces and interaction are a joy to watch.
Less successful are some of the bigger effects, which promise much but occasionally misfire, and a set, designed by Sara Perks, which looks like it ought to be a triumph but somehow actually contrives to limit the action and the imagination.
But there’s no mistaking the vitality and energy of the cast, and it’s always fantastic to see a band in the Royal’s pit, this time a tight foursome under musical director Ian MacGregor.
All of which helps to make this magical journey highly creditable to the creative team, if not quite scoring full marks for the final achievement.
CABARET
November 24, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 29, then touring
WHAT most people want to know about this touring production of Cabaret is two things: firstly, can Wayne Sleep carry off the role of the Kit Kat Club’s camp Emcee, and how is Samantha Barks in her professional debut.
What people really need to know is that Rufus Norris’s show, out on the road after a long spell in the West End, is not really about either of its stars.
The revival of Kander and Ebb’s 1966 musical about carefree hedonism in 1930s Berlin retains all its power to entertain, thrill and shock. Against the clearly signposted undertones of the rise of Nazism and the seeds of anti-Semitism, it’s a portrait of a city falling apart under the weight of its own decadence.
All this is superbly laid out in a production, designed by Katrina Lindsay and lit by Jean Kalman, that simultaneously exhilarates and disturbs.
The club is evoked with some flashing lights and a couple of sparkly curtains, leaving the talented ensemble to do most of the work. They do it brilliantly. There is barely a moment when the stage is not teeming with seedy life, choreographed to perfection by Javier De Frutos.
There’s also a moving sub-plot going on between Matt Zimmermann as a Jewish widower and Jenny Logan as the object of his desire, played out lovingly and tenderly by two actors who really know what they’re doing.
And the pulsating score – including classics such as Maybe This Time, The Money Song and the title number itself – is wonderfully recreated by a nine-piece pit band under the baton of Tom de Keyser, full of sass and style.
So what about those two? The truth is they both get by perfectly well. Sleep copes with his Master of Ceremonies solidly enough, although there’s an occasional hint of terror behind the eyes in the big solo numbers.
And Barks, whose experience in the TV talent search I’d Do Anything led to this opportunity courtesy of producer Bill Kenwright, shows she can belt them out with the best of them. Her acting might deepen with another 10 years or so of life experience, but there’s not much she can do about that just now.
Besides, to repeat the point: this spectacular and powerful show is not really about either of them. It’s much bigger than that.
ALEX
November 11, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until November 15, then Colchester and Leicester Square Theatre, London, until December 20
HE’S been a staple of broadsheet newspapers for more than 20 years. Now the arrogant cartoon corporate banker Alex has been brought to life for the stage.
Only readers of the Daily Telegraph will be connoisseurs of the strip, and in truth its style and humour are something of an acquired taste. But none of that really matters thanks to Robert Bathurst.
This supremely talented comic actor has made selfish boors something of a stock in trade, reaching its zenith in Cold Feet. This, together with his floppy-haired, ageing yuppie look and immaculate suits, fits him perfectly for the role of the self-centred, money-grabbing, misanthropic banker and his 75-minute monologue on… well, himself.
“People think I’m a terrible snob,” he confesses at one point. “But I’m not. I’m really good at it.”
This is typical of the sharp, tightly-constructed script by Alex’s creators, Charles Peattie and Russell Taylor, who have converted the cartoon strip into live action ingeniously and intelligently.
Through clever projection onto a series of white panels and boards, Bathurst interacts with a series of animated characters representing his wife, colleagues and conspirators. The monochrome drawings are carefully timed and manipulated to generate a kind of dialogue with the protagonist, which all adds to the pressure on the actor to hold the whole thing together.
Bathurst does so with panache, geniality and immaculate comic timing. His Alex is irrepressibly horrible to everyone, with self-interest his only guiding principle, and yet you can’t help but like him as he somehow blunders through any crisis that befalls and emerges smelling of roses.
It’s a one-man tour de force and a gifted display of virtuosity.
CAN'T SMILE WITHOUT YOU
November 10, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 15, then touring
SAY what you like about Barry Manilow, you can’t deny the man can write a tune.
In fact, with all the jibes and cheap taunts, it’s easy to forget this is a pop giant whose chart success has been matched by only a very few in the past four decades.
So the idea of a jukebox musical plundering his back catalogue must have seemed highly attractive to writer Timothy Prager and director/producer Bill Kenwright.
Throw in Chesney Hawkes and a couple of finalists from reality TV star searches, and you’ve got a ready-made hit. Haven’t you?
Well no, actually. What you’ve got is a great live tribute act backed by a top-notch on-stage band and glitzy production, with a string of singalong hits to entertain the fans.
What’s missing – and it’s so glaring it’s hard to believe someone of Kenwright’s experience could allow it to happen – is a story.
In fact, what was also missing on opening night was Chesney and one of his co-stars, Siobhan Dillon, due to an indeterminate “indisposition” – but we’ll let that pass.
The fundamental problem is that the basic story of a boy band whose singer suffers amnesia after being beaten up is so woefully thin that even the magnificent music can only just save it from outright laughability. None of the characters is remotely believable, dialogue is cliché-ridden and weak, and the structure is so ramshackle it’s amazing the whole thing doesn’t collapse in on itself.
Fortunately, there is salvation in the shape of two troupers – understudies Richard Taylor Woods and Katie Ray – who step up defiantly to sing their little hearts out.
Francesca Jackson and Edward Handoll both perform ably in their supporting roles, and the other boys in the band are a cheerful, talented bunch who have guitars, will travel.
But they might just as well have dumped the feeble narrative and gone straight for the foot-tapping, emotion-grabbing power of the songs, delivered with authority and talent under the capable baton of musical director John Maher.
After all, with a show like this, you can’t smile without them.
STOMP
October 27, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 1, then touring
IF all you know about Stomp is that it involves a few people banging dustbin lids together, then think again. That’s a bit like saying the Olympic Games involve a bunch of people running about a bit.
What Stomp actually involves is a cast of incredibly inventive, fit and fantastically talented people creating an astonishing performance of rhythmic virtuosity on everything from matchboxes to giant inflatables – and even the kitchen sink.
For non-drummers, the prospect of endless beats thumped out on an almost infinite variety of surfaces may sound a tad restrictive. But ’tis not so.
The reality is that this show has as much humour, pace, intelligence and vision as any musical performance you’re likely to see, and a whole world of imaginative diversions beside.
The sheer stamina of the five boys and three girls as they career through almost two non-stop hours of dynamism – forget those namby-pamby intervals, guys, this is raw endurance – is matched only by their charm, cheekiness and superlative natural ability, whether they’re suspended upside down from the scenery or stamping out rhythms with a four-foot oil drum strapped to each foot.
There’s a kind of narrative momentum involving each of the performers looking for ways to generate a rhythm using whatever comes to hand, and there are some fabulously choreographed segments in which their competitiveness drives them on to more and more complex manoeuvres. There’s wit in abundance, too, as plastic bags, fag packets and newspapers are roped in to serve as makeshift percussion.
But ultimately this is not so much about storytelling as about sitting back and enjoying the extraordinary gifts of some remarkable musicians at the very top of their game.
LORD OF THE FLIES
October 21, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 25, then touring until March 21, 2009
HOW does a society break down when all normal rules are abandoned? That’s the central question in the 20th century classic Lord of the Flies, which made author William Golding’s name.
Pilot Theatre, with backing from York Theatre Royal, have put the morality tale on stage with an exciting, adventurous touring production.
The story, of course, examines what happens on a deserted island after a plane full of schoolboys crashes and the young survivors descend into tribal anarchy in their fight to stay alive.
Intelligently staged, with all the action revolving round the versatile, cleverly evoked plane wreckage – courtesy of designers Ali Allen and Marise Rose – this adaptation careers relentlessly from boarding-school formality to unbridled savagery in two whistle-stop hours. Under the guidance of Pilot’s artistic director Marcus Romer, the cast of eight create an alarmingly real representation of a bunch of children left to their own devices.
Davood Ghadami is a gripping central figure as Ralph, the elected chief who desperately wants to do the right thing but is too easily led astray, while Dominic Doughty is movingly vulnerable as Piggy, the object of ridicule and scorn from his fellows.
While the production has its faults– I could have done without the interminable background music, for example – it’s meticulously handled and packs a powerful punch of which Golding would undoubtedly have been proud.
OTHELLO
October 10, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 18
IT’S a problem that certainly dates back to my schooldays and probably many generations before: how do you make Shakespeare accessible to young people?
Endless radical answers have been offered, from updating its setting to modernising its language, with varying degrees of success.
The physical theatre company Frantic Assembly has been invited to stage its latest effort, Othello, at Northampton’s Royal Theatre after creating it with Plymouth’s Theatre Royal. It subsequently ventures to the Nuffield in Southampton and the Lyric, Hammersmith.
And boy, is it radical.
The Moor himself becomes the thuggish leader of a gang of hoodies, who rule a rundown West Yorkshire pub with pool cues and – bizarrely – dance routines. Desdemona is his “bitch”, Iago his bitter and twisted sidekick.
It’s hacked back to a little over 90 minutes, played with no interval but plenty of loud music, and is aimed unashamedly at the teenagers who have to see a live Shakespeare performance as part of their A-level syllabuses. To be fair, it seemed to go down pretty well with them.
But for my money, this adaptation by Frantic Assembly’s joint artistic directors Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett is all mouth and no trousers.
The production sacrifices all subplot, subtlety and depth from the original in a misguided quest for simplicity and being “real” for “the kids”. The trouble with this kind of reductive approach is that, instead of achieving simplicity it is merely simplistic. Instead of reality it plays as the worst kind of reality TV: a sick spectator sport putting an intrusive spotlight on unpleasant characters doing horrible things.
So instead of the majestic tragedy of a great love turned lethal by a mesmerising Machiavelli, this Othello amounts to little more than a low-grade, low-life punch-up between a bunch of no-hope misfits you don’t even begin to care about. It’s Shakespeare for the Hollyoaks generation.
Even the decision to use the original text backfires as the cod-Bradford accents trample all over the verse, reducing some of the English language’s finest utterances to the shrieking of fishwives and the yelling of thugs.
The poor performers do what they can, and there are moments of ingenuity – such as a set (Laura Hopkins) whose walls move and sway to convey drunkenness or danger – but there’s precious little to enthuse the would-be student of the Bard in an evening of gratuitous violence and relentless nastiness.
THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE
September 17, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 4, 2008
THERE was a certain heaviness of heart over the choice of this Muriel Spark piece as the opener in the Royal’s new autumn season. It has the potential to be dry, hectoring and more than a little slow.
Under the directorship of Laurie Sansom, it is none of those things. Indeed, it is triumphant to the point that it sets down a clear and highly placed benchmark for the rest of the season, which subsequent directors – Sansom himself included – may find it hard to equal.
Neil Irish’s design, with walls, columns and screens covered in chalky school hieroglyphics, beautifully conjures up a vivid atmosphere of the cloistered girls’ school in the 1930s.
A coterie of pupils, drawn from the able talents of Northampton School for Girls, provides an authentic backdrop of youth, from which the four principal young ladies emerge believably and totally convincingly, each playing age ranges from 12 to 30 with complete The ‘adult’ cast, too, are well matched, with Hywel Simons and John Killoran both evoking the slightly out-of-kilter feeling of male teachers in a thoroughly female environment, and Sarah Moyle giving us a fine, constrained headmistress.
Ultimately, the show is a star vehicle for the actress playing Jean Brodie, and Anna Francolini does not disappoint. She allows Brodie’s faults and flaws to be visible from the start – almost making the character too hard to imagine as a figure of idolisation – but wins over both the audience and her ‘gells’ with a bravura performance full of subtlety, drama and depth.
The production is crammed with interesting ideas and clever evocations of the fascist subtext that’s constantly lurking, and it’s another powerful addition to the Royal’s recent roster of successes. If it proves a hard act to follow, then Mr Sansom has nobody to blame but himself.
December 19, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until January 11, 2009
AFTER the disappointment of David Essex’s panto debut as Captain Hook last year, you might have expected producers Qdos to play it safe this time around.
And in the sense that this is a rollicking, traditional offering of “the greatest panto of them all” (to quote the publicity), they have. But where they’ve taken a huge chance is putting another first-timer in the substantial and pivotal role of Buttons.
With hindsight it doesn’t actually seem that much of a gamble: their choice, one Jimmy Osmond, is an entertainer of such vast experience and unbounded charm that he could have grunted the part while dressed in a bin bag and still won the audience over.
As it is, he’s a panto natural, revelling in the audience participation, twinkling with self-deprecating gags and loving the rapport he strikes up through a whirlwind medley of his old hits, including – yes, it’s here – Long-Haired Lover from Liverpool.
Around him he’s got some great support, too, in the shape of Peter Piper as an engaging, knockabout Baron Hardup, and two sassy ugly sisters, Brian Godfrey and Darren Southworth.
The whole thing looks great, thanks to an uncredited designer, and is spectacularly stolen by Ian Lucken’s Shetland ponies in a delightful transformation scene, complete with snow.
There are minor gripes – my inevitable whinge about the lack of a live band, the fact that the pace flags worryingly in parts – but there’s no denying the fantastic response of the thoroughly mixed audience and the sheer winning enthusiasm of the cast.
Royal & Derngate has already announced Snow White as next year’s seasonal offering. Here’s hoping the upward trend continues.
THE WIZARD OF OZ
December 5, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until January 11, 2009
JUST occasionally a show comes along that is really hard to review. The Wizard of Oz is one. It’s ambitious, it’s exciting, it’s full of ideas and it’s a terrific alternative to more traditional festive fare. All of these things are totally in keeping with the current trend at Royal & Derngate under artistic director Laurie Sansom, and are to be thoroughly commended.
And if the whole doesn’t quite live up to the promise of its parts, maybe that’s more to do with the scale of the ambition, rather than any inherent shortcomings.
Sansom is nothing if not epic-minded. Taking on such an iconic classic is a challenge that would deter many a wizened old director, but it’s one that Sansom clearly relishes.
All the things that make the Judy Garland movie so magnificent – from the juxtaposition of black-and-white with glorious rainbow colours, to the genuine love shared between the four travellers (five if you count Toto) – are seized on with enthusiasm and exploited to full advantage.
Natalie Burt is a wonderful stand-in for Judy herself, the ringlets and ruby-lipped smile as evocative as the gingham dress. She sings, moves and acts with confidence and considerable talent, and is completely at ease carrying both the show and the scene-stealing Toto.
Her companions are delightful too – Marc Pickering as a loveable scarecrow, Darren J Fawthrop a suitably uptight tin man and Harry Morrison a cuddly old lion – and their set pieces and interaction are a joy to watch.
Less successful are some of the bigger effects, which promise much but occasionally misfire, and a set, designed by Sara Perks, which looks like it ought to be a triumph but somehow actually contrives to limit the action and the imagination.
But there’s no mistaking the vitality and energy of the cast, and it’s always fantastic to see a band in the Royal’s pit, this time a tight foursome under musical director Ian MacGregor.
All of which helps to make this magical journey highly creditable to the creative team, if not quite scoring full marks for the final achievement.
CABARET
November 24, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 29, then touring
WHAT most people want to know about this touring production of Cabaret is two things: firstly, can Wayne Sleep carry off the role of the Kit Kat Club’s camp Emcee, and how is Samantha Barks in her professional debut.
What people really need to know is that Rufus Norris’s show, out on the road after a long spell in the West End, is not really about either of its stars.
The revival of Kander and Ebb’s 1966 musical about carefree hedonism in 1930s Berlin retains all its power to entertain, thrill and shock. Against the clearly signposted undertones of the rise of Nazism and the seeds of anti-Semitism, it’s a portrait of a city falling apart under the weight of its own decadence.
All this is superbly laid out in a production, designed by Katrina Lindsay and lit by Jean Kalman, that simultaneously exhilarates and disturbs.
The club is evoked with some flashing lights and a couple of sparkly curtains, leaving the talented ensemble to do most of the work. They do it brilliantly. There is barely a moment when the stage is not teeming with seedy life, choreographed to perfection by Javier De Frutos.
There’s also a moving sub-plot going on between Matt Zimmermann as a Jewish widower and Jenny Logan as the object of his desire, played out lovingly and tenderly by two actors who really know what they’re doing.
And the pulsating score – including classics such as Maybe This Time, The Money Song and the title number itself – is wonderfully recreated by a nine-piece pit band under the baton of Tom de Keyser, full of sass and style.
So what about those two? The truth is they both get by perfectly well. Sleep copes with his Master of Ceremonies solidly enough, although there’s an occasional hint of terror behind the eyes in the big solo numbers.
And Barks, whose experience in the TV talent search I’d Do Anything led to this opportunity courtesy of producer Bill Kenwright, shows she can belt them out with the best of them. Her acting might deepen with another 10 years or so of life experience, but there’s not much she can do about that just now.
Besides, to repeat the point: this spectacular and powerful show is not really about either of them. It’s much bigger than that.
ALEX
November 11, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until November 15, then Colchester and Leicester Square Theatre, London, until December 20
HE’S been a staple of broadsheet newspapers for more than 20 years. Now the arrogant cartoon corporate banker Alex has been brought to life for the stage.
Only readers of the Daily Telegraph will be connoisseurs of the strip, and in truth its style and humour are something of an acquired taste. But none of that really matters thanks to Robert Bathurst.
This supremely talented comic actor has made selfish boors something of a stock in trade, reaching its zenith in Cold Feet. This, together with his floppy-haired, ageing yuppie look and immaculate suits, fits him perfectly for the role of the self-centred, money-grabbing, misanthropic banker and his 75-minute monologue on… well, himself.
“People think I’m a terrible snob,” he confesses at one point. “But I’m not. I’m really good at it.”
This is typical of the sharp, tightly-constructed script by Alex’s creators, Charles Peattie and Russell Taylor, who have converted the cartoon strip into live action ingeniously and intelligently.
Through clever projection onto a series of white panels and boards, Bathurst interacts with a series of animated characters representing his wife, colleagues and conspirators. The monochrome drawings are carefully timed and manipulated to generate a kind of dialogue with the protagonist, which all adds to the pressure on the actor to hold the whole thing together.
Bathurst does so with panache, geniality and immaculate comic timing. His Alex is irrepressibly horrible to everyone, with self-interest his only guiding principle, and yet you can’t help but like him as he somehow blunders through any crisis that befalls and emerges smelling of roses.
It’s a one-man tour de force and a gifted display of virtuosity.
CAN'T SMILE WITHOUT YOU
November 10, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 15, then touring
SAY what you like about Barry Manilow, you can’t deny the man can write a tune.
In fact, with all the jibes and cheap taunts, it’s easy to forget this is a pop giant whose chart success has been matched by only a very few in the past four decades.
So the idea of a jukebox musical plundering his back catalogue must have seemed highly attractive to writer Timothy Prager and director/producer Bill Kenwright.
Throw in Chesney Hawkes and a couple of finalists from reality TV star searches, and you’ve got a ready-made hit. Haven’t you?
Well no, actually. What you’ve got is a great live tribute act backed by a top-notch on-stage band and glitzy production, with a string of singalong hits to entertain the fans.
What’s missing – and it’s so glaring it’s hard to believe someone of Kenwright’s experience could allow it to happen – is a story.
In fact, what was also missing on opening night was Chesney and one of his co-stars, Siobhan Dillon, due to an indeterminate “indisposition” – but we’ll let that pass.
The fundamental problem is that the basic story of a boy band whose singer suffers amnesia after being beaten up is so woefully thin that even the magnificent music can only just save it from outright laughability. None of the characters is remotely believable, dialogue is cliché-ridden and weak, and the structure is so ramshackle it’s amazing the whole thing doesn’t collapse in on itself.
Fortunately, there is salvation in the shape of two troupers – understudies Richard Taylor Woods and Katie Ray – who step up defiantly to sing their little hearts out.
Francesca Jackson and Edward Handoll both perform ably in their supporting roles, and the other boys in the band are a cheerful, talented bunch who have guitars, will travel.
But they might just as well have dumped the feeble narrative and gone straight for the foot-tapping, emotion-grabbing power of the songs, delivered with authority and talent under the capable baton of musical director John Maher.
After all, with a show like this, you can’t smile without them.
STOMP
October 27, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 1, then touring
IF all you know about Stomp is that it involves a few people banging dustbin lids together, then think again. That’s a bit like saying the Olympic Games involve a bunch of people running about a bit.
What Stomp actually involves is a cast of incredibly inventive, fit and fantastically talented people creating an astonishing performance of rhythmic virtuosity on everything from matchboxes to giant inflatables – and even the kitchen sink.
For non-drummers, the prospect of endless beats thumped out on an almost infinite variety of surfaces may sound a tad restrictive. But ’tis not so.
The reality is that this show has as much humour, pace, intelligence and vision as any musical performance you’re likely to see, and a whole world of imaginative diversions beside.
The sheer stamina of the five boys and three girls as they career through almost two non-stop hours of dynamism – forget those namby-pamby intervals, guys, this is raw endurance – is matched only by their charm, cheekiness and superlative natural ability, whether they’re suspended upside down from the scenery or stamping out rhythms with a four-foot oil drum strapped to each foot.
There’s a kind of narrative momentum involving each of the performers looking for ways to generate a rhythm using whatever comes to hand, and there are some fabulously choreographed segments in which their competitiveness drives them on to more and more complex manoeuvres. There’s wit in abundance, too, as plastic bags, fag packets and newspapers are roped in to serve as makeshift percussion.
But ultimately this is not so much about storytelling as about sitting back and enjoying the extraordinary gifts of some remarkable musicians at the very top of their game.
LORD OF THE FLIES
October 21, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 25, then touring until March 21, 2009
HOW does a society break down when all normal rules are abandoned? That’s the central question in the 20th century classic Lord of the Flies, which made author William Golding’s name.
Pilot Theatre, with backing from York Theatre Royal, have put the morality tale on stage with an exciting, adventurous touring production.
The story, of course, examines what happens on a deserted island after a plane full of schoolboys crashes and the young survivors descend into tribal anarchy in their fight to stay alive.
Intelligently staged, with all the action revolving round the versatile, cleverly evoked plane wreckage – courtesy of designers Ali Allen and Marise Rose – this adaptation careers relentlessly from boarding-school formality to unbridled savagery in two whistle-stop hours. Under the guidance of Pilot’s artistic director Marcus Romer, the cast of eight create an alarmingly real representation of a bunch of children left to their own devices.
Davood Ghadami is a gripping central figure as Ralph, the elected chief who desperately wants to do the right thing but is too easily led astray, while Dominic Doughty is movingly vulnerable as Piggy, the object of ridicule and scorn from his fellows.
While the production has its faults– I could have done without the interminable background music, for example – it’s meticulously handled and packs a powerful punch of which Golding would undoubtedly have been proud.
OTHELLO
October 10, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 18
IT’S a problem that certainly dates back to my schooldays and probably many generations before: how do you make Shakespeare accessible to young people?
Endless radical answers have been offered, from updating its setting to modernising its language, with varying degrees of success.
The physical theatre company Frantic Assembly has been invited to stage its latest effort, Othello, at Northampton’s Royal Theatre after creating it with Plymouth’s Theatre Royal. It subsequently ventures to the Nuffield in Southampton and the Lyric, Hammersmith.
And boy, is it radical.
The Moor himself becomes the thuggish leader of a gang of hoodies, who rule a rundown West Yorkshire pub with pool cues and – bizarrely – dance routines. Desdemona is his “bitch”, Iago his bitter and twisted sidekick.
It’s hacked back to a little over 90 minutes, played with no interval but plenty of loud music, and is aimed unashamedly at the teenagers who have to see a live Shakespeare performance as part of their A-level syllabuses. To be fair, it seemed to go down pretty well with them.
But for my money, this adaptation by Frantic Assembly’s joint artistic directors Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett is all mouth and no trousers.
The production sacrifices all subplot, subtlety and depth from the original in a misguided quest for simplicity and being “real” for “the kids”. The trouble with this kind of reductive approach is that, instead of achieving simplicity it is merely simplistic. Instead of reality it plays as the worst kind of reality TV: a sick spectator sport putting an intrusive spotlight on unpleasant characters doing horrible things.
So instead of the majestic tragedy of a great love turned lethal by a mesmerising Machiavelli, this Othello amounts to little more than a low-grade, low-life punch-up between a bunch of no-hope misfits you don’t even begin to care about. It’s Shakespeare for the Hollyoaks generation.
Even the decision to use the original text backfires as the cod-Bradford accents trample all over the verse, reducing some of the English language’s finest utterances to the shrieking of fishwives and the yelling of thugs.
The poor performers do what they can, and there are moments of ingenuity – such as a set (Laura Hopkins) whose walls move and sway to convey drunkenness or danger – but there’s precious little to enthuse the would-be student of the Bard in an evening of gratuitous violence and relentless nastiness.
THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE
September 17, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 4, 2008
THERE was a certain heaviness of heart over the choice of this Muriel Spark piece as the opener in the Royal’s new autumn season. It has the potential to be dry, hectoring and more than a little slow.
Under the directorship of Laurie Sansom, it is none of those things. Indeed, it is triumphant to the point that it sets down a clear and highly placed benchmark for the rest of the season, which subsequent directors – Sansom himself included – may find it hard to equal.
Neil Irish’s design, with walls, columns and screens covered in chalky school hieroglyphics, beautifully conjures up a vivid atmosphere of the cloistered girls’ school in the 1930s.
A coterie of pupils, drawn from the able talents of Northampton School for Girls, provides an authentic backdrop of youth, from which the four principal young ladies emerge believably and totally convincingly, each playing age ranges from 12 to 30 with complete The ‘adult’ cast, too, are well matched, with Hywel Simons and John Killoran both evoking the slightly out-of-kilter feeling of male teachers in a thoroughly female environment, and Sarah Moyle giving us a fine, constrained headmistress.
Ultimately, the show is a star vehicle for the actress playing Jean Brodie, and Anna Francolini does not disappoint. She allows Brodie’s faults and flaws to be visible from the start – almost making the character too hard to imagine as a figure of idolisation – but wins over both the audience and her ‘gells’ with a bravura performance full of subtlety, drama and depth.
The production is crammed with interesting ideas and clever evocations of the fascist subtext that’s constantly lurking, and it’s another powerful addition to the Royal’s recent roster of successes. If it proves a hard act to follow, then Mr Sansom has nobody to blame but himself.
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