David Troughton and Vivien Parry in The Shoemaker's Holiday. Picture by Pete Le May.
THE SHOEMAKER’S HOLIDAY
* * *
December 20, 2014
RSC, Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, March 7, 2015
IT’S hard to fault the intention behind the choice of plays in The Swan. The juxtaposition of some of Shakespeare’s contemporaries alongside the works of the Bard himself makes for fascinating historical context and an important re-evaluation of the importance and sheer extraordinariness of England’s greatest playwright.
But the simple fact of their existence is hardly enough to justify their production on the second stage of our foremost Shakespearean company, at considerable expense, with large casts and magnificent resources. Thomas Dekker’s 1599 comedy provides an illustrative case in point.
It might have been funny 400 years ago. Actually, I’m not totally convinced of that, but even if it were true, the jokes have failed to survive the intervening years. Some fruity insults and a bit of slapstick do not a comedy make, and director Phillip Breen struggles at times to derive either entertainment or, frankly, much interest from his raw material.
Production values are high, with an elegant set design by Max Jones and a six-piece band providing a subtle underscore, while the large company does its best with the uninspired content.
David Troughton, leading the cast as the eponymous shoemaker who rises implausibly to become Lord Mayor of London, makes a manful attempt to plumb humour from the long, wordy script, and there’s good comic support from Vivien Parry as his wife. Jack Holden offers the greatest fun of the night as a precocious, haughty but secretly mischievous King – a kind of prototype Prince Harry.
But there’s not much else to engage the attention or even provide useful context for what Mr Shakespeare was up to at the same time (Henry V, since you’re asking), and the resulting three hours ends up feeling just a bit worthy but dull.
* * *
December 20, 2014
RSC, Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, March 7, 2015
IT’S hard to fault the intention behind the choice of plays in The Swan. The juxtaposition of some of Shakespeare’s contemporaries alongside the works of the Bard himself makes for fascinating historical context and an important re-evaluation of the importance and sheer extraordinariness of England’s greatest playwright.
But the simple fact of their existence is hardly enough to justify their production on the second stage of our foremost Shakespearean company, at considerable expense, with large casts and magnificent resources. Thomas Dekker’s 1599 comedy provides an illustrative case in point.
It might have been funny 400 years ago. Actually, I’m not totally convinced of that, but even if it were true, the jokes have failed to survive the intervening years. Some fruity insults and a bit of slapstick do not a comedy make, and director Phillip Breen struggles at times to derive either entertainment or, frankly, much interest from his raw material.
Production values are high, with an elegant set design by Max Jones and a six-piece band providing a subtle underscore, while the large company does its best with the uninspired content.
David Troughton, leading the cast as the eponymous shoemaker who rises implausibly to become Lord Mayor of London, makes a manful attempt to plumb humour from the long, wordy script, and there’s good comic support from Vivien Parry as his wife. Jack Holden offers the greatest fun of the night as a precocious, haughty but secretly mischievous King – a kind of prototype Prince Harry.
But there’s not much else to engage the attention or even provide useful context for what Mr Shakespeare was up to at the same time (Henry V, since you’re asking), and the resulting three hours ends up feeling just a bit worthy but dull.
Joseph Kloska leads his men as Lieutenant Bruce Bairnsfather. Picture by Topher McGrillis.
THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE
* * * *
December 19, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, January 31, 2015
THE story of the 1914 soccer-playing truce across the war-torn trenches of Flanders is so well-known these days as to be almost a cliché. It’s a compliment, then, to Phil Porter’s rewarding and nuanced script that the RSC’s festive offering never strays into melodrama or pathos. In fact, under Erica Whyman’s direction, it delivers emotional punch and historical drama in equal measure.
Much of its success is down to the imaginative staging, which converts simple wooden chairs and stepladders into dugouts, church halls and even trains, brilliantly lit by Charles Balfour to supplement the power of the audience’s imagination.
That’s to take nothing away from the excellent cast, who strike exactly the right notes of camaraderie and tension as the story unfolds of the unwilling Warwickshire Regiment heading off to this unwanted war.
Joseph Kloska is a beautifully bumbling but dedicated Lieutenant Bruce Bairnsfather, a real-life artist whose cartoons of life in the trenches would go on to become a staple of wartime entertainment. Loved by his men and respected by his colleagues, Bairnsfather emerges in Kloska’s portrait as a quiet hero.
By contrast, Gerard Horan is fabulously loud and bombastic as the main object of Bairnsfather’s artistic eye – the comic private immortalised in the cartoons as Old Bill. Horan conveys the wizened old trouper with a judicious mix of affability and world-weariness and ultimately carries the weight of the show on his broad shoulders.
Jamie Newall and Nick Haverson lead the opposing forces with style and reserved teutonic flair as members of the Saxon regiment that inspires the Christmas ceasefire with its rendition of Silent Night, and the sense of wary comradeship despite the enmity is almost palpable.
There’s a rather superfluous and heavy-handed subplot about squabbling frontline nurses who reach their own form of truce for the greater good, but for the most part, this is a lively, poignant and evocative tribute to the fallen Warwickshires and that extraordinary moment in history.
* * * *
December 19, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, January 31, 2015
THE story of the 1914 soccer-playing truce across the war-torn trenches of Flanders is so well-known these days as to be almost a cliché. It’s a compliment, then, to Phil Porter’s rewarding and nuanced script that the RSC’s festive offering never strays into melodrama or pathos. In fact, under Erica Whyman’s direction, it delivers emotional punch and historical drama in equal measure.
Much of its success is down to the imaginative staging, which converts simple wooden chairs and stepladders into dugouts, church halls and even trains, brilliantly lit by Charles Balfour to supplement the power of the audience’s imagination.
That’s to take nothing away from the excellent cast, who strike exactly the right notes of camaraderie and tension as the story unfolds of the unwilling Warwickshire Regiment heading off to this unwanted war.
Joseph Kloska is a beautifully bumbling but dedicated Lieutenant Bruce Bairnsfather, a real-life artist whose cartoons of life in the trenches would go on to become a staple of wartime entertainment. Loved by his men and respected by his colleagues, Bairnsfather emerges in Kloska’s portrait as a quiet hero.
By contrast, Gerard Horan is fabulously loud and bombastic as the main object of Bairnsfather’s artistic eye – the comic private immortalised in the cartoons as Old Bill. Horan conveys the wizened old trouper with a judicious mix of affability and world-weariness and ultimately carries the weight of the show on his broad shoulders.
Jamie Newall and Nick Haverson lead the opposing forces with style and reserved teutonic flair as members of the Saxon regiment that inspires the Christmas ceasefire with its rendition of Silent Night, and the sense of wary comradeship despite the enmity is almost palpable.
There’s a rather superfluous and heavy-handed subplot about squabbling frontline nurses who reach their own form of truce for the greater good, but for the most part, this is a lively, poignant and evocative tribute to the fallen Warwickshires and that extraordinary moment in history.
THE WITCH OF EDMONTON
* * *
November 14, 2014
RSC, The Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, November 29, 2014
FIRST things first: it’s great to see Eileen Atkins on stage at the RSC, even if it’s as a downtrodden old hag in a ropey old wig. Whenever she’s on – which is sadly not enough in this workmanlike revival of an overblown Jacobean drama – she commands the Swan with her presence.
The story is muddled and ridiculous, even by the supernatural standards of the day, and the multiplicity of authors with a nib in the inkpot doesn’t help. Suffice it to say that Atkins’s eponymous witch is accused of all sorts of nefarious goings-on in the village, while the locals are themselves quite capable of some mayhem of their own. Arthur Miller it ain’t, and the anomalous west country accents in the north London setting add another layer of mystification to the proceedings.
On the plus side, many of the performances are enjoyable, with Jay Simpson standing out as a bizarrely adorned devil in disguise as a black dog. His movements and leering are appropriately weird, although the overall effect is of a strangely affable demonic force, rather than one of terror. Elsewhere, Faye Castelow is a pleasing peasant girl who meets an untimely end, while stalwarts Geoffrey Freshwater, Ian Redford and Liz Crowther turn in dependable performances as the older generation.
Director Gregory Doran stages the whole grim performance on an equally grim set designed by Niki Turner, with usefully underscored music from the ever reliable Paul Englishby, and the result is an interesting curiosity that serves some contextual purpose for Jacobean drama without ever quite sparking into dramatic life itself.
* * *
November 14, 2014
RSC, The Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, November 29, 2014
FIRST things first: it’s great to see Eileen Atkins on stage at the RSC, even if it’s as a downtrodden old hag in a ropey old wig. Whenever she’s on – which is sadly not enough in this workmanlike revival of an overblown Jacobean drama – she commands the Swan with her presence.
The story is muddled and ridiculous, even by the supernatural standards of the day, and the multiplicity of authors with a nib in the inkpot doesn’t help. Suffice it to say that Atkins’s eponymous witch is accused of all sorts of nefarious goings-on in the village, while the locals are themselves quite capable of some mayhem of their own. Arthur Miller it ain’t, and the anomalous west country accents in the north London setting add another layer of mystification to the proceedings.
On the plus side, many of the performances are enjoyable, with Jay Simpson standing out as a bizarrely adorned devil in disguise as a black dog. His movements and leering are appropriately weird, although the overall effect is of a strangely affable demonic force, rather than one of terror. Elsewhere, Faye Castelow is a pleasing peasant girl who meets an untimely end, while stalwarts Geoffrey Freshwater, Ian Redford and Liz Crowther turn in dependable performances as the older generation.
Director Gregory Doran stages the whole grim performance on an equally grim set designed by Niki Turner, with usefully underscored music from the ever reliable Paul Englishby, and the result is an interesting curiosity that serves some contextual purpose for Jacobean drama without ever quite sparking into dramatic life itself.
LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST / LOVE’S LABOUR’S WON
* * * * * / * * * * *
October 25, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, March 14, 2015
LEAVING aside the rather gimmicky idea of re-labelling Much Ado About Nothing as Love’s Labour’s Won (there is a tenuous theory to support it but even artistic director Gregory Doran admits it’s a longshot), the decision to pair these two plays is a stroke of genius. You can’t help wondering why people aren’t doing it all the time.
Set either side of the First World War, this unusual but effective framing device allows director Christopher Luscombe to explore Edwardian frippery and Roaring Twenties flappery alongside the darker undertones of both plays, for which the shadow of war proves a useful backdrop.
His laudable ambitions and deft direction are reinforced to spectacular effect with some magnificent stagings. Simon Higlett’s extraordinary set, shared by both productions, is sumptuous, hugely imaginative and endlessly versatile in a design as wonderful as any I’ve seen at Stratford in recent years. Combined with Oliver Fenwick’s subtle, supportive lighting, it’s an absolute triumph.
The other major technical contributor to the overall success of the production is a simply delightful score from composer Nigel Hess. Capturing the spirit of everything from cod-G&S to some ravishing Ivor Novello-inspired lyrical songs, Hess’s music provides the perfect complement to the action, never interrupting but always enlightening and enhancing, whether it’s in a fully-staged production number or in his judicious, apposite underscoring.
With all these elements coming together so seamlessly, it’s a real pleasure to be able to record that the performances soar on this expressive foundation, enjoying the liberation and the playground provided by the creative team. The same cast performs both plays and clearly revels in the opportunities they offer.
There’s some beautifully judged comedy from John Hodgkinson as a Spanish guest of the court in LLL, while Nick Haverson makes the most of the twin nincompoops Costard and Dogberry without overblowing the mugging. Sam Alexander makes both a fine, upstanding King of Navarre and a nuanced, villainous Don John, while Michelle Terry offsets her restrained courtier Rosaline with a feisty, full-bodied Beatrice in the later play.
But there’s no doubting who’s the king of this double bill, and Edward Bennett is unquestionably up to the sizeable task. As Berowne in Love’s Labour’s Lost, he plots playfully and hilariously, while his Benedick is commanding, believable and a joy to be in the company of. Whether ramping up the comedy or pausing to heighten the poignancy, his timing is immaculate and he’s at the top of his game.
Luscombe coaxes a whole pack of superb performances out of his large, talented cast and, played out against the magical setting delivered by his creatives, conjures up a lost world in vivid reality. It’s merry, moving and a must-see.
* * * * * / * * * * *
October 25, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, March 14, 2015
LEAVING aside the rather gimmicky idea of re-labelling Much Ado About Nothing as Love’s Labour’s Won (there is a tenuous theory to support it but even artistic director Gregory Doran admits it’s a longshot), the decision to pair these two plays is a stroke of genius. You can’t help wondering why people aren’t doing it all the time.
Set either side of the First World War, this unusual but effective framing device allows director Christopher Luscombe to explore Edwardian frippery and Roaring Twenties flappery alongside the darker undertones of both plays, for which the shadow of war proves a useful backdrop.
His laudable ambitions and deft direction are reinforced to spectacular effect with some magnificent stagings. Simon Higlett’s extraordinary set, shared by both productions, is sumptuous, hugely imaginative and endlessly versatile in a design as wonderful as any I’ve seen at Stratford in recent years. Combined with Oliver Fenwick’s subtle, supportive lighting, it’s an absolute triumph.
The other major technical contributor to the overall success of the production is a simply delightful score from composer Nigel Hess. Capturing the spirit of everything from cod-G&S to some ravishing Ivor Novello-inspired lyrical songs, Hess’s music provides the perfect complement to the action, never interrupting but always enlightening and enhancing, whether it’s in a fully-staged production number or in his judicious, apposite underscoring.
With all these elements coming together so seamlessly, it’s a real pleasure to be able to record that the performances soar on this expressive foundation, enjoying the liberation and the playground provided by the creative team. The same cast performs both plays and clearly revels in the opportunities they offer.
There’s some beautifully judged comedy from John Hodgkinson as a Spanish guest of the court in LLL, while Nick Haverson makes the most of the twin nincompoops Costard and Dogberry without overblowing the mugging. Sam Alexander makes both a fine, upstanding King of Navarre and a nuanced, villainous Don John, while Michelle Terry offsets her restrained courtier Rosaline with a feisty, full-bodied Beatrice in the later play.
But there’s no doubting who’s the king of this double bill, and Edward Bennett is unquestionably up to the sizeable task. As Berowne in Love’s Labour’s Lost, he plots playfully and hilariously, while his Benedick is commanding, believable and a joy to be in the company of. Whether ramping up the comedy or pausing to heighten the poignancy, his timing is immaculate and he’s at the top of his game.
Luscombe coaxes a whole pack of superb performances out of his large, talented cast and, played out against the magical setting delivered by his creatives, conjures up a lost world in vivid reality. It’s merry, moving and a must-see.
THE WHITE DEVIL
* * * *
August 15, 2014
RSC, The Swan, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, November 29, 2014
Director Maria Aberg has, it must be said, a certain style to her work. Keen to update old classics to contemporary dress, feminist sensibilities and in-yer-face ultra-modernism, she’s already exercised these techniques on King John and As You Like It. Now it’s John Webster who gets the treatment.
So we’re given provocative video projections, a gender-swapping villain Flaminio and some uncomfortably graphic sexual overtones, coupled with a dispiriting treatment of the female actors in particular.
All this gimmickry is utterly unnecessary and ultimately unhelpful. Fortunately, Webster’s revenge tragedy survives as a gripping conspiracy thriller, and it’s largely down to some terrific performances.
At the heart of it are the duplicitous adulterers Vittoria and Bracciano, whose scheming results in murder and misery for those around them. Kirsty Bushell and David Sturzaker are both on blistering form, fiery and credible and chillingly watchable as the doomed lovers.
Faye Castelow and Keir Charles as their wronged other halves also make a fine impression with their accomplished performances, while Liz Crowther is almost in danger of stealing the show as Vittoria’s heartbroken mother.
Laura Elphinstone offers a decent enough Flaminio, and recasting the character as Vittoria’s deceitful sister, rather than dominating brother, is an interesting choice. Less explicable is the decision to make her, alone among her family, a Geordie.
But this is typical of the whole production, which is also poorly served by a brash design and some thoroughly irritating underscored music. I would have loved to see this talented clutch of beautifully delivered performances in a staging that truly did them justice. The real tragedy here is that, if you can see past the flashy tricksiness, there’s a stunning show trying desperately to get out.
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA
* * *
August 14, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Thursday, September 4, 2014
DIRECTOR Simon Godwin makes his debut for the RSC with this zippy, amiable romp through one of Shakespeare’s earliest comedies. Not fully staged in Stratford for more than 40 years, it provides both a pleasing reacquaintance with the play and a useful calling card for Godwin.
The story of thwarted loves, secret elopements and cross dressing – well, this is an early Shakespeare comedy – is clearly told and ably handled by both the director and his talented cast and creative team. Designer Paul Wills gives us a romanticised Italy that’s all checkerboard tablecloths and sharp fashion, providing an elegant backdrop to the well-paced action, while the onstage band of accomplished musicians adds much to the evocative charm.
Among the players, Michael Marcus and Sarah MacRae stand out as Valentine and Silvia, one of the pairs of lovers destined to undergo a series of confusions and complications on their path to true love. But there are plenty of other performances to enjoy, not least the partnership between Roger Morlidge as the comedy turn Launce and the show-stealing Mossop as his dog Crab.
It’s a very enjoyable presentation of a lesser Bardic piece which should do good business with the summer tourists. And if it fails to lodge firmly in the memory or emerge strikingly as a landmark production, it’s hardly the fault of the actors or their capable commander in chief.
DEAN FRIEDMAN
* * * * *
July 7, 2014
No. 1 Shakespeare Street, Stratford-upon-Avon, then touring
IF all you know of Dean Friedman is Lucky Stars and “Well, Well,” Said the Rocking Chair, then you’re missing out. This unassuming but hugely talented singer-songwriter has spent more than 40 years honing a craft that has lost none of its early skill, passion and humour.
There are occasional hints of all kinds of other people – Randy Newman, Sting, even Tom Lehrer – but Friedman is unequivocally his own man, a writer and performer with a wealth of entertaining, satirical and occasionally barbed material.
His latest UK outing will take in the Edinburgh Festival and a host of dates nationwide as a solo performer, but he’s supported for the first leg of the tour by his stunning band, The South Street Fusion Project. Drummer Kiril Orenstein, virtuoso bassist Chris Talio (wielding an extraordinary seven-string instrument) and Friedman’s own multi-instrumentalist son Sam provide a class accompaniment to their silver-haired frontman.
All the old favourites are there, including Lydia, Ariel and the BBC-banned McDonald’s Girl, but they’re judiciously intermingled with some instrumental jazz fusion numbers that dazzlingly showcase the band’s considerable musical talent. Friedman Junior, for instance, proves himself a brilliantly accomplished harmonica player alongside his keyboard skills.
The intimate, welcoming venue makes the ideal setting for this warm, witty and rather wonderful performer, who allows his songs to do the talking in the most eloquent fashion. For fans of great musicianship and intelligent songwriting, it’s a chance not to be missed.
HENRY IV Parts 1 and 2
* * * * * / * * * *
June 7, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, September 6, 2014
NOT the most memorable of Shakespeare’s history plays, the two parts of Henry IV can be dense, stodgy and overly political in the wrong hands, making for a long six hours of complex manoeuvring. As RSC artistic director Gregory Doran proves, however, in the right hands they can be fiery, fascinating and fun.
This pair of productions have everything going for them. There’s decaying elegance in Stephen Brimson Lewis’s stunning designs and Tim Mitchell’s unobtrusive lighting. There’s some echoingly haunting music from possibly this country’s finest composer of theatre music, Paul Englishby. And there’s some astonishingly accomplished stage fighting courtesy of veteran fight director Terry King. And all that’s before you even start on the performances.
Although named after the king who deposed Richard II (who makes a fleeting but effective appearance to link this play to its David Tennant-starred predecessor), Henry IV is most notable by his relative absence. When he does turn up, however, Jasper Britton makes him highly affecting, wracked with guilt for his usurpation, visibly declining in health and a delicate mixture of brittle and battle-weary. Britton’s verse-speaking is as good as I’ve heard on the new RSC stage and his meaning and intent are crystal-clear as a result – an impressive achievement in this tricky role.
Alex Hassell plays his dissolute son Hal, the Prince of Wales, in wonderfully bombastic, cavalier style, bringing to mind a more contemporary namesake in his reckless disregard for public opinion in the quest for a good time. But when the time comes for repentance and rejection of his former life, he’s powerfully credible and adopts royalty with ease as the new Henry V.
The entire company is strong, promising much for the roll-out of all 36 Shakespeare plays over the next two or three years, and it’s particularly pleasing to see the female parts played as neither wet nor whining – full marks, then, to Jennifer Kirby, Paola Dionisotti and Nia Gwynne.
But there’s no question whose night – or should that be knight? – this is. The casting of Sir Antony Sher as Falstaff is nothing short of genius; his performance ditto. With utterly realistic padding and a head swathed in shaggy grey hair and beard, he looks, sounds and behaves as brilliantly roguish as you could hope for. He’s never less than totally believable as the lovable drunkard whose sheer charm and endless fund of invented anecdotes have kept him in sack and good company for years. In the pantheon of Sher’s stellar roles for the RSC, this is, quite simply, as memorable and definitive as any of them.
Part 2 may fare a little less well than Part 1, thanks to its intensifying of the politics and power-play, but taken together, these Henrys achieve a reconsideration of the plays within the canon as well worth a second look.
ARDEN OF FAVERSHAM
* * * *
May 8, 2014
RSC, The Swan, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Thursday, October 2, 2014
THE second in the Swan’s season of Elizabethan and Jacobean plays featuring strong women, under the season title Roaring Girls, is an anonymous, supposedly true story of the scheming wife of a Kent merchant. Together with her young, downmarket lover, she plots the murder of her wealthy husband in a variety of increasingly unlikely ways.
While this anti-heroine could hardly be held up as a role model for strong women, there is something distinctly beguiling and appealing about Sharon Small’s portrayal of Alice Arden. She’s got a wicked look in her eye and a swagger in her walk that makes her credibly terrifying as the central figure.
Ostensibly a black comedy, the play’s been transported to modern-day London, where its avaricious entrepreneurs, trashy trophy wives and East End gangsters fit in perfectly. Polly Findlay’s assured direction keeps the pace moving through an uninterrupted hour and three-quarters, while the characterisations across the ensemble are clearly well thought through and consistent.
Ian Redford may be a little too cuddly and Santa-like as the eponymous merchant, but his mistrust of his wayward wife and his suspicion of those closest to him ring true in his sturdy performance. Keir Charles, meanwhile, invests Alice’s lover Mosby with a smarmy, weaselly charm that is all too believable in this world of crooks and conmen.
The story itself, while it may not have the depth or literary prowess of its contemporary Shakespeare, is an entertaining yarn of attempted murder, conspiracy and the abuse of power. Exploiting such dark themes for comic effect is always a little discomforting, but the design, lighting and music (Merle Hensel, Lee Curran and Dan Jones respectively) mesh judiciously to provide an impressive backdrop to the tawdry tale.
One word of warning, though: avoid the front row if you’re wearing your best frock. Enough said.
THE ROARING GIRL
* * *
April 16, 2014
RSC, Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon until Tuesday, September 30, 2014
IT’S when you see some of the work of his contemporaries that you realise just how good Shakespeare is. This comedy by Thomas Dekker and Thomas Middleton is an interesting historical curiosity, but barely worthy of the expense, attention and resources that have been thrown at it in this RSC production.
Directed by RSC debutante Jo Davies, there’s plenty of knockabout stuff, double entendre and laddish behaviour, but at best it’s broad comedy, at worst coarse, unsatisfying and not all that funny.
It doesn’t help that Davies has chosen to set it in Victorian times, with a further anachronism in the bizarre, harsh music soundtrack from Gary Yershon. This fuses vaguely jazzy saxophone, trumpet, drum and bass with some utterly incongruous and mystifying hip-hop, rock and even rap.
The result is, frankly, a bit of a mess. Naomi Dawson’s lush designs are completely at odds with the brash tone of the production, while the story itself – such as it is – meanders aimlessly through a series of set pieces with some comedy business thrown in apparently to keep up the tempo.
And this highlights the play’s biggest flaw: its paper-thin narrative. Sebastian Wengrave wants to marry Mary Fitzallard but his father thinks she’s beneath him. The young man duly tricks his dad into thinking he wants to marry the dissolute, cross-dressing Moll Cutpurse – the Roaring Girl of the title – so that Mary looks a good choice by comparison. And, er… that’s it.
The fundamental problem is that it renders Moll herself as incidental to proceedings, and very much a passive character, not even the main protagonist. There’s some fun to be found in Lisa Dillon’s performance, all East End truculence and boyish swagger, but it’s not enough to carry an evening.
Elsewhere, Keir Charles shines as one of Sebastian’s wealthy, charmless coterie, and Christopher Middleton makes the most of a couple of amusing cameos. But overall the large cast’s considerable talents are sadly underused and the finished product – while admittedly going down well with some elements of the audience – is hardly a roaring success.
WOLF HALL / BRING UP THE BODIES
* * * *
January 8, 2014
RSC, Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, March 29, 2014
Hilary Mantel’s two award-winning novels about the rise of Henry VIII’s right-hand man Thomas Cromwell are dense, sweeping and epic. In transferring them to the stage, adapter Mike Poulton wisely opts for storytelling clarity above all else.
There was a danger, as with his earlier RSC adaptation Morte d’Arthur, that things might descend into Pythonesque self-parody and unintentional comedy.
Fortunately for the RSC, the two plays – particularly when viewed together as a single entity – are focused, vibrant and dazzling in their ambition.
The narrative is well-served by director Jeremy Herrin, the artistic director of Headlong who here makes his RSC debut with flying colours. What could be a complicated, messy re-interpretation of the traditionally dim view of Cromwell’s scheming instead becomes a fascinating tale of intrigue, self-protection and political manoeuvring to match any modern spin doctor of the likes of Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It.
Playing Cromwell, Ben Miles bears a certain resemblance to the foul-mouthed Tucker, but his machinations are much more subtle and low-key, given the nature of the possible result of getting it wrong. Miles is never less than commanding in a huge role – he’s barely off-stage in more than six hours of theatre – but it’s a performance of nuance and real intelligence, as befits a man who survived three of Henry’s marriage manipulations.
Nathaniel Parker is strikingly good as Henry himself, creating a conflicted, three-dimensional character out of the mental caricature we all carry from our schooldays, and these two central figures are well matched by a large and thoroughly dependable supporting cast.
Lydia Leonard’s Anne Boleyn, Daniel Fraser as Cromwell’s young son Gregory and Joshua James as his eager clerk are especially confident and impressive, while Paul Jesson’s magisterial Cardinal Wolsey manages to invest this larger-than-life historical giant with pathos and vulnerability.
One may not always share Mantel’s evident sympathies with some individuals, but the story as it is unfolded in this sell-out production is constantly gripping, powerfully dramatic and ultimately enlightening. The queue for returns is certainly worth the effort.
* * * *
August 15, 2014
RSC, The Swan, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, November 29, 2014
Director Maria Aberg has, it must be said, a certain style to her work. Keen to update old classics to contemporary dress, feminist sensibilities and in-yer-face ultra-modernism, she’s already exercised these techniques on King John and As You Like It. Now it’s John Webster who gets the treatment.
So we’re given provocative video projections, a gender-swapping villain Flaminio and some uncomfortably graphic sexual overtones, coupled with a dispiriting treatment of the female actors in particular.
All this gimmickry is utterly unnecessary and ultimately unhelpful. Fortunately, Webster’s revenge tragedy survives as a gripping conspiracy thriller, and it’s largely down to some terrific performances.
At the heart of it are the duplicitous adulterers Vittoria and Bracciano, whose scheming results in murder and misery for those around them. Kirsty Bushell and David Sturzaker are both on blistering form, fiery and credible and chillingly watchable as the doomed lovers.
Faye Castelow and Keir Charles as their wronged other halves also make a fine impression with their accomplished performances, while Liz Crowther is almost in danger of stealing the show as Vittoria’s heartbroken mother.
Laura Elphinstone offers a decent enough Flaminio, and recasting the character as Vittoria’s deceitful sister, rather than dominating brother, is an interesting choice. Less explicable is the decision to make her, alone among her family, a Geordie.
But this is typical of the whole production, which is also poorly served by a brash design and some thoroughly irritating underscored music. I would have loved to see this talented clutch of beautifully delivered performances in a staging that truly did them justice. The real tragedy here is that, if you can see past the flashy tricksiness, there’s a stunning show trying desperately to get out.
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA
* * *
August 14, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Thursday, September 4, 2014
DIRECTOR Simon Godwin makes his debut for the RSC with this zippy, amiable romp through one of Shakespeare’s earliest comedies. Not fully staged in Stratford for more than 40 years, it provides both a pleasing reacquaintance with the play and a useful calling card for Godwin.
The story of thwarted loves, secret elopements and cross dressing – well, this is an early Shakespeare comedy – is clearly told and ably handled by both the director and his talented cast and creative team. Designer Paul Wills gives us a romanticised Italy that’s all checkerboard tablecloths and sharp fashion, providing an elegant backdrop to the well-paced action, while the onstage band of accomplished musicians adds much to the evocative charm.
Among the players, Michael Marcus and Sarah MacRae stand out as Valentine and Silvia, one of the pairs of lovers destined to undergo a series of confusions and complications on their path to true love. But there are plenty of other performances to enjoy, not least the partnership between Roger Morlidge as the comedy turn Launce and the show-stealing Mossop as his dog Crab.
It’s a very enjoyable presentation of a lesser Bardic piece which should do good business with the summer tourists. And if it fails to lodge firmly in the memory or emerge strikingly as a landmark production, it’s hardly the fault of the actors or their capable commander in chief.
DEAN FRIEDMAN
* * * * *
July 7, 2014
No. 1 Shakespeare Street, Stratford-upon-Avon, then touring
IF all you know of Dean Friedman is Lucky Stars and “Well, Well,” Said the Rocking Chair, then you’re missing out. This unassuming but hugely talented singer-songwriter has spent more than 40 years honing a craft that has lost none of its early skill, passion and humour.
There are occasional hints of all kinds of other people – Randy Newman, Sting, even Tom Lehrer – but Friedman is unequivocally his own man, a writer and performer with a wealth of entertaining, satirical and occasionally barbed material.
His latest UK outing will take in the Edinburgh Festival and a host of dates nationwide as a solo performer, but he’s supported for the first leg of the tour by his stunning band, The South Street Fusion Project. Drummer Kiril Orenstein, virtuoso bassist Chris Talio (wielding an extraordinary seven-string instrument) and Friedman’s own multi-instrumentalist son Sam provide a class accompaniment to their silver-haired frontman.
All the old favourites are there, including Lydia, Ariel and the BBC-banned McDonald’s Girl, but they’re judiciously intermingled with some instrumental jazz fusion numbers that dazzlingly showcase the band’s considerable musical talent. Friedman Junior, for instance, proves himself a brilliantly accomplished harmonica player alongside his keyboard skills.
The intimate, welcoming venue makes the ideal setting for this warm, witty and rather wonderful performer, who allows his songs to do the talking in the most eloquent fashion. For fans of great musicianship and intelligent songwriting, it’s a chance not to be missed.
HENRY IV Parts 1 and 2
* * * * * / * * * *
June 7, 2014
RSC, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, September 6, 2014
NOT the most memorable of Shakespeare’s history plays, the two parts of Henry IV can be dense, stodgy and overly political in the wrong hands, making for a long six hours of complex manoeuvring. As RSC artistic director Gregory Doran proves, however, in the right hands they can be fiery, fascinating and fun.
This pair of productions have everything going for them. There’s decaying elegance in Stephen Brimson Lewis’s stunning designs and Tim Mitchell’s unobtrusive lighting. There’s some echoingly haunting music from possibly this country’s finest composer of theatre music, Paul Englishby. And there’s some astonishingly accomplished stage fighting courtesy of veteran fight director Terry King. And all that’s before you even start on the performances.
Although named after the king who deposed Richard II (who makes a fleeting but effective appearance to link this play to its David Tennant-starred predecessor), Henry IV is most notable by his relative absence. When he does turn up, however, Jasper Britton makes him highly affecting, wracked with guilt for his usurpation, visibly declining in health and a delicate mixture of brittle and battle-weary. Britton’s verse-speaking is as good as I’ve heard on the new RSC stage and his meaning and intent are crystal-clear as a result – an impressive achievement in this tricky role.
Alex Hassell plays his dissolute son Hal, the Prince of Wales, in wonderfully bombastic, cavalier style, bringing to mind a more contemporary namesake in his reckless disregard for public opinion in the quest for a good time. But when the time comes for repentance and rejection of his former life, he’s powerfully credible and adopts royalty with ease as the new Henry V.
The entire company is strong, promising much for the roll-out of all 36 Shakespeare plays over the next two or three years, and it’s particularly pleasing to see the female parts played as neither wet nor whining – full marks, then, to Jennifer Kirby, Paola Dionisotti and Nia Gwynne.
But there’s no question whose night – or should that be knight? – this is. The casting of Sir Antony Sher as Falstaff is nothing short of genius; his performance ditto. With utterly realistic padding and a head swathed in shaggy grey hair and beard, he looks, sounds and behaves as brilliantly roguish as you could hope for. He’s never less than totally believable as the lovable drunkard whose sheer charm and endless fund of invented anecdotes have kept him in sack and good company for years. In the pantheon of Sher’s stellar roles for the RSC, this is, quite simply, as memorable and definitive as any of them.
Part 2 may fare a little less well than Part 1, thanks to its intensifying of the politics and power-play, but taken together, these Henrys achieve a reconsideration of the plays within the canon as well worth a second look.
ARDEN OF FAVERSHAM
* * * *
May 8, 2014
RSC, The Swan, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Thursday, October 2, 2014
THE second in the Swan’s season of Elizabethan and Jacobean plays featuring strong women, under the season title Roaring Girls, is an anonymous, supposedly true story of the scheming wife of a Kent merchant. Together with her young, downmarket lover, she plots the murder of her wealthy husband in a variety of increasingly unlikely ways.
While this anti-heroine could hardly be held up as a role model for strong women, there is something distinctly beguiling and appealing about Sharon Small’s portrayal of Alice Arden. She’s got a wicked look in her eye and a swagger in her walk that makes her credibly terrifying as the central figure.
Ostensibly a black comedy, the play’s been transported to modern-day London, where its avaricious entrepreneurs, trashy trophy wives and East End gangsters fit in perfectly. Polly Findlay’s assured direction keeps the pace moving through an uninterrupted hour and three-quarters, while the characterisations across the ensemble are clearly well thought through and consistent.
Ian Redford may be a little too cuddly and Santa-like as the eponymous merchant, but his mistrust of his wayward wife and his suspicion of those closest to him ring true in his sturdy performance. Keir Charles, meanwhile, invests Alice’s lover Mosby with a smarmy, weaselly charm that is all too believable in this world of crooks and conmen.
The story itself, while it may not have the depth or literary prowess of its contemporary Shakespeare, is an entertaining yarn of attempted murder, conspiracy and the abuse of power. Exploiting such dark themes for comic effect is always a little discomforting, but the design, lighting and music (Merle Hensel, Lee Curran and Dan Jones respectively) mesh judiciously to provide an impressive backdrop to the tawdry tale.
One word of warning, though: avoid the front row if you’re wearing your best frock. Enough said.
THE ROARING GIRL
* * *
April 16, 2014
RSC, Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon until Tuesday, September 30, 2014
IT’S when you see some of the work of his contemporaries that you realise just how good Shakespeare is. This comedy by Thomas Dekker and Thomas Middleton is an interesting historical curiosity, but barely worthy of the expense, attention and resources that have been thrown at it in this RSC production.
Directed by RSC debutante Jo Davies, there’s plenty of knockabout stuff, double entendre and laddish behaviour, but at best it’s broad comedy, at worst coarse, unsatisfying and not all that funny.
It doesn’t help that Davies has chosen to set it in Victorian times, with a further anachronism in the bizarre, harsh music soundtrack from Gary Yershon. This fuses vaguely jazzy saxophone, trumpet, drum and bass with some utterly incongruous and mystifying hip-hop, rock and even rap.
The result is, frankly, a bit of a mess. Naomi Dawson’s lush designs are completely at odds with the brash tone of the production, while the story itself – such as it is – meanders aimlessly through a series of set pieces with some comedy business thrown in apparently to keep up the tempo.
And this highlights the play’s biggest flaw: its paper-thin narrative. Sebastian Wengrave wants to marry Mary Fitzallard but his father thinks she’s beneath him. The young man duly tricks his dad into thinking he wants to marry the dissolute, cross-dressing Moll Cutpurse – the Roaring Girl of the title – so that Mary looks a good choice by comparison. And, er… that’s it.
The fundamental problem is that it renders Moll herself as incidental to proceedings, and very much a passive character, not even the main protagonist. There’s some fun to be found in Lisa Dillon’s performance, all East End truculence and boyish swagger, but it’s not enough to carry an evening.
Elsewhere, Keir Charles shines as one of Sebastian’s wealthy, charmless coterie, and Christopher Middleton makes the most of a couple of amusing cameos. But overall the large cast’s considerable talents are sadly underused and the finished product – while admittedly going down well with some elements of the audience – is hardly a roaring success.
WOLF HALL / BRING UP THE BODIES
* * * *
January 8, 2014
RSC, Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until Saturday, March 29, 2014
Hilary Mantel’s two award-winning novels about the rise of Henry VIII’s right-hand man Thomas Cromwell are dense, sweeping and epic. In transferring them to the stage, adapter Mike Poulton wisely opts for storytelling clarity above all else.
There was a danger, as with his earlier RSC adaptation Morte d’Arthur, that things might descend into Pythonesque self-parody and unintentional comedy.
Fortunately for the RSC, the two plays – particularly when viewed together as a single entity – are focused, vibrant and dazzling in their ambition.
The narrative is well-served by director Jeremy Herrin, the artistic director of Headlong who here makes his RSC debut with flying colours. What could be a complicated, messy re-interpretation of the traditionally dim view of Cromwell’s scheming instead becomes a fascinating tale of intrigue, self-protection and political manoeuvring to match any modern spin doctor of the likes of Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It.
Playing Cromwell, Ben Miles bears a certain resemblance to the foul-mouthed Tucker, but his machinations are much more subtle and low-key, given the nature of the possible result of getting it wrong. Miles is never less than commanding in a huge role – he’s barely off-stage in more than six hours of theatre – but it’s a performance of nuance and real intelligence, as befits a man who survived three of Henry’s marriage manipulations.
Nathaniel Parker is strikingly good as Henry himself, creating a conflicted, three-dimensional character out of the mental caricature we all carry from our schooldays, and these two central figures are well matched by a large and thoroughly dependable supporting cast.
Lydia Leonard’s Anne Boleyn, Daniel Fraser as Cromwell’s young son Gregory and Joshua James as his eager clerk are especially confident and impressive, while Paul Jesson’s magisterial Cardinal Wolsey manages to invest this larger-than-life historical giant with pathos and vulnerability.
One may not always share Mantel’s evident sympathies with some individuals, but the story as it is unfolded in this sell-out production is constantly gripping, powerfully dramatic and ultimately enlightening. The queue for returns is certainly worth the effort.
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