The Heart of Robin Hood @ Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford

01/12/11

It’s Christmas. A time to eat drink and be merry. So what better show to start the festive season than spending some time with Robin Hood and his Merry Men.

Robin Hood has been a favourite character of mine for as long as I can remember. As a child my first love was…okay it wasn’t Disney’s fox version of Robin Hood, he came a close second to Virgil from Thunderbirds, but he was right up there. Since then I’ve always looked on the story of Robin Hood with warmth and fondness, so when the RSC announced their Christmas show, I was incredibly excited.

After last year’s sensational Matilda, so sensational I saw it twice, Robin Hood had some big shoes to fill. The marketing for Robin Hood hinted at a dark take on the normal pantomime fodder, with our eponymous hero running through a misty forest. Even the tagline ‘tread carefully through the forest’ spoke of unseen dangers at every turn; very different from the musical extravaganza we were treated to last year.

The Heart of Robin Hood takes on an almost Shakespearian format. Maid Marion, oppressed by her life in the castle, disguises herself as a man and steals away to the forest. There she meets Robin Hood and his men who, unlike stories we’re used to, is a bit of a brute. Instead of robbing from the rich and giving to the poor, Robin simply robs everybody, keeping all he steals for himself and his gang. From here the show takes on a familiar format, as Marion joins the outlaws and teaches Robin about virtue, honesty, and love.

However, while there is a formulaic structure to this tale, there are curveballs that many would not expect from a children’s Christmas show. The plots main conflict is derived from Prince John’s desire to slaughter two small children while he amasses an army to steal the throne while the king is away at the Crusades.

Martin Hutson is deliciously evil as Prince John, revelling in every heinous act the character commits while maintain an oily veneer that is great fun to watch. There was almost an element of Richard the third in his portrayal, as such open and disgusting villainy is very difficult to get right without lapsing into comedy, but Hutson seemed to manage it here.

James Mcardle as the eponymous Robin Hood is also a standout performance, portraying Robin as a little more slow-witted than the legend you’re used to, which made him all the more endearing. Mcardle is, of course, met blow for blow by Iris Roberts as Marion, who mixes comedy and pathos incredibly well and carries most of the story on her shoulders. Marion also has the honour of nailing my favourite line in the script, demonstrating Farr’s complete understanding of women. “I love him. He’s brutish, he’s rough, he’s emotionally unavailable. He’s perfect!”

It is a credit to the entire company that they all use their surroundings beautifully, mixing brilliant acrobatics with fantastic acting with seemingly no effort at all. Speaking of the surrounding, I must talk about the set.

Borkur Jonsson’s set is spectacular. A huge curved wall dominates the stage, so high it disappears behind the back wall and into darkness. Characters climb up it on ropes, abseil down it, slide down exuberantly, and use it’s crevices and hidden levels to enact various settings in the story. This set piece alone injects energy into the story, and makes every scene that much more exciting.

In addition to this, a small pool with hidden depths provides great moments of fun and levity, and a jaw dropping moment for fans of the male gender. (I won’t spoil it, but it’s when Robin’s Merry Men first appear. There’s a plastic goose involved. You’ll know it when you see it.) Add to that the forest that hangs from the ceiling, from which characters swing on ropes, musicians play in the tree tops and Robin Hood leaps on unsuspecting victims, and the hidden platforms and windows in the sliding wall, then this is simply the best set I’ve seen all year.

That said, this is not a perfect show. The script sags a little in the middle, and I don’t think the marketing for this show did it any favours. Who is this show aimed at? Is it a children’s show with dark moments, or a show for adults that children will happen to enjoy too? From the marketing so far, it seems the RSC isn’t really sure.

Also, while the set is just beautiful, it does mean that the performance space is very small – leading to lots of entrances and exits in a scene from minor characters. This is also true of chase scenes, wherein the space takes on a slapstick element as the majority of the chase goes on outside the performance space. It’s not something I found particularly distracting, but from the grumblings of a few around me in the interval I know it may not be to everyone’s taste.

But there are minor quibbles, and in my humble opinion, Icelandic director Gisli Orn Gardarsson has created a truly great Christmas show here. It has everything a family of any age could want. There is drama, comedy, romance, some fantastic fight scenes, and a darkness that is rarely seen from a piece aimed at a younger audience. It is for this reason more than any other that I’m sure some will give it negative reviews.

Adults in the audience glanced worriedly to their children as Prince John dangled a severed tongue for all to see, but the kids loved every second of it, and that is the secret of the success of this show. Not once did it patronise or talk down to any of the children watching it – instead it presented a fantastic story with, admittedly, some strong themes, in such a way that every child understood and enjoyed, even in the scary bits.

The show may not be as obviously perfect as last years Matilda, but The Heart of Robin Hood may still be the most fun you have in a theatre this Christmas – and not a panto dame in sight.

Les Miserables and Sister Act @ Queens Theatre, London & New Theatre, Oxford

Early this year my boyfriend and I were discussing theatre, as I am wont to do. As a film critic he is perfectly at home in the world of cinema, but prior to meeting me the world of theatre was something he was largely unfamiliar with. I didn’t exactly take it upon myself to teach him, that would be horribly condescending, but I did want to share with him what had been, until I met him of course (ahem), my one true love.

We went to various plays, saw various dramas, both classical and modern, but eventually talk turned to musicals. It’s not surprising really- these are most peoples only exposure to theatre, with the big blockbuster musicals spending thousands on advertising, running for years and years and building a pretty hefty fan base along the way. When he was younger, James had seen a particularly dreadful musical that shall remain nameless, and was put off ever since. However, being a nice sort of fella, he humoured me and agreed to come along to a musical.

We started with Les Miserables. This was my favourite musical for many years and I maintain that it has the most beautifully written score on the West End. We saw the show when Alfie Boe was in the role of Jean Valjean, and I can’t think of a better way to introduce a theatrical newbie to musicals. Les Mis has lost none of the passion that made it such a smash-hit, and the story of the convict on the run, set against the backdrop of the French Revolution, remains compelling and rich, though the staging and sets have become quite dated.

The score is rousing and certainly never dull, tripping easily from ballad to an energetic call to arms. Because the score is so familiar, the cast do have a job making it their own, and some manage more successfully than others. Alexia Khadime as Eponine attempted a soulful rendition of On My Own which fell flat, the warbles and trills jarring against the classical style the rest of the cast were adopting, but she still gave an emotional performance, and no one could argue that by god the girl can sing. Stand out performances included Hadley Fraser, who brought me to tears as Javert, and Fantine, who in my opinion has never been played better than by Caroline Sheen, but I don’t think anyone in the audience would argue that the show belonged to Alfie Boe.

Boe is just a force of nature, belting out the tunes with seemingly no effort at all. He was just incredible. Not only was his powerful tenor voice perfectly suited to the role, but he managed to pack each moment he was on stage with such emotion that it was difficult to focus on anything other than him. He also holds back from unleashing his voice completely in order to blend into the cast better, which shows great restraint and made a big difference to the show as a whole.

There is a reason Les Mis has lasted the test of time, and it’s certainly worth another visit. My only regret is that certain elements are a bit dated, certain set pieces and sequences jarring slightly on someone who is used to pared down staging. Javert’s death is an excellent example of this, the rolling off the stage looking ugly and messy when his stance beforehand, arms raised to the heavens at the bridge rises behind him, could have been a perfect farewell to my favourite character. The barricades look a little old – but until I think of a suitable alternative I won’t slate it completely.

From an old favourite, to a new contender! Our trip to the New Theatre, Oxford was the first time I have seen Sister Act on stage, but have heard nothing but good things so thought it was worth a punt.

The show follows the same story as the hit film – Reno lounge singer, Delores Van Carter witnesses her boyfriend killing a man in the midst of a shady deal, so flees and it placed in the witness protection programme, hiding in a convent. There, she manages to transform a group of seemingly tone deaf nuns into a soulful gospel choir that brings new life to the church.

For fans of the original film, it is worth noting that none of the songs feature in this stage version. However for me, that is not a problem, in fact, it works in the shows favour. Alan Menken’s score is great fun, perfectly evoking the spirit of 1970’s disco and soul classics, where this is now set.

I really enjoyed this version of Sister Act. Cynthia Evro as Dolores was outstanding, belting out each song with power and emotion, and the cast seemed to work incredibly well together, lighting up the stage with energy and fun. I just couldn’t help thinking that touring this show must be one of the most fun tours around at the moment.

However, I seem to have missed a trick. This show was good, very good in fact, but anyone that had already seen this on the West End emerged decidedly glum. Apparently this is a pale comparison of the West End version, being incredibly restricted by the smaller stage. I didn’t notice this at the time, but thinking about it, certain elements did seem a bit cramped. There were also comments that Evro wasn’t as good as the West End’s Dolores, but once again, I didn’t have that comparison so loved it.

There’s always a risk of this kind of criticism when a show this big goes on tour, but I think for the most part these criticisms can be ignored. Of course the West End show is on a larger scale, but that doesn’t detract from what has been achieved here. There was a really warm reaction from the audience on the night I was there, and as we were leaving young and old alike were laughing and still dancing as they walked down the street – what more could you ask for?

So there you go – I don’t do musical reviews particularly often, but there’s a double bill for you. Two vastly different shows, showing my non-theatrical boyfriend the range of musicals on offer. See James? They aren’t all like Martin Guerre…I’ve said too much.

13 @ Olivier Theatre, National Theatre

 

25/10/11

To me, Mike Bartlett is one of the most interesting playwrights working today. Okay, so he misses the mark frequently, and his style is one that many find irritating – but he’s creating new and innovative work in a period when people are increasingly relying on ‘safe’ old staples.

I was first introduced to his work with Earthquakes in London. It was hectic, anarchic, chilling at times, and descended into a completely ridiculous ending that had many leaving grumbling about a ‘flash in the pan’. I liked Earthquakes. Don’t get me wrong, it was flawed, but it showed promise from a young playwright trying to shine a light on modern Britain. It seems I wasn’t the only one, as Bartlett has now graduated to the Olivier theatre, and now holds the dubious honour of being the youngest playwright in ten years to have managed this.

13 takes on a similar structure to Earthquakes, following different characters as they attempt to grapple with living in modern Britain. This is a society on the brink of a big change – though what that change is lies in the hands of the characters Bartlett portrays. The first half is almost nightmarish in quality, opening with all the characters sharing a single and terrifying dream. Militant protesters, academics, politicians and greasy solicitors are all drawn to a mysterious man named John, who speaks simple sense – offering the chance to reject materialism and greed.  The second half is a dramatic shift as the prime minister addresses John and his followers, and their opposition to an American invasion of Iran.

To be quite honest, the storyline to this is incidental. Bartlett uses the play instead to address modern concerns. This London is incredibly realistic, and far too close for comfort. Public disorder and riots, social media sites, occupying protesters – all are addressed here as Bartlett tries to stress the importance of belief, not necessarily in a God but in something, anything. He argues that this is the reason we dream of a society on the brink of collapse, because we no longer stand united behind one common goal.

This is what Bartlett does best: mixing epic theatre with political insight. There is a whiff of Tony Kushner in his ability to boil down larger issues into his characters personal relationships, and his examination of modern society is unparalleled. I don’t think I was the only one who was decidedly unnerved by his examination of the uncertainly we all face, and the comparison between young people hungering for change and the entrenched elder statesmen of politics clinging to the status quo. There was something incredibly chilling about Bartlett’s world view and the fact that, when faced with such monumental change in the world, none of us really know where all this is going.

The opening to the play is nothing short of spectacular. Laurie Anderson’s ‘Someone Elses Dream’ whispers in your ear as a gigantic cube emerges from the darkness like a monolith. (I had never heard the song before, and assumed it had been written for this play. It is a terrifying and beautiful piece of music, and I’d urge you to seek it out.) The short scenes that follow quickly introduce all the key players and sets the ambitious and hectic pace that continues throughout the first half.

The set is really beautiful in it’s seeming simplicity, using the revolve perfectly and gently moving from one scene to another in a way that seemed totally natural. The cube is used in a variety of different settings, becoming a lawyers office, and opening up to reveal a dark steel structure inside. Additional set pieces are also used in an efficient and clever way – most notably the breakfast bar, which at times has three different scenes taking place on it simultaneously.

There were also some brilliant performances on offer from a company that’s difficult to fault. The standouts were Trystan Gravelle as the prophetic John, whose gentle performances made his speeches totally believable and compelling, and Adam James as the bitter and angry lawyer. Danny Webb also gives a sterling supporting performance as a Richard Dawkins type character, providing an atheist voice to counter a preaching of John. But this performance belongs to Geraldine James, who stole it for me as the compassionate Tory Prime Minister that lost her way.

This show has a lot going for it, and at the end of the first half, if I gave star ratings it would be a solid five, I even ran down to the NT bookshop to buy the play as I was so impressed with what I had seen, but unfortunately, I did not feel the same way by the end of the show. While the first half burst from the stage with energy and passion, the second half descended into a thirty-minute conversation around a table between only three people.

 It was a very good conversation. The writing was dynamic, the exchanges interesting and relevant as John, the Prime Minister and the Atheist grappled with an imminent war – but it bore absolutely no relation to the play I was watching in the first half. To me it seemed as though Bartlett had grown bored of the epic and decided to just write a domestic drama instead – highlighting all his key points in one handy conversation.

Sometimes I wish I could take Bartlett by the shoulders and shake him vigorously. He did this in Love Love Love, and he did it in Earthquakes. He creates a bit of theatrical magic, and then ruins it thirty minutes before the end. It is the football equivalent of scoring an own goal in extra time. There is something enigmatic and incredibly interesting about this play. It brings up the confusion and conflict we all experience in our lives, while shining a light on bigger political issues. I should have come out raving about this show, instead I left disappointed and frustrated, desperately wishing that Bartlett would learn how to finish what he started.

Marat / Sade @ Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford

23/10/11

Marat/Sade is really due to be restaged. With riots in the streets only months ago, and camps springing up in protest of the financial turmoil brought upon us by those in positions of power, the idea of revolution, of a nation rising up against it’s ruling class, has never been more poignant. I was quite excited about this show, not least because it came with a warning email beforehand, a pretty high age limit, and the fact I studied this play at university and knew exactly what was in store.

Saying that, staging a production of Marat/Sade is not without risk. There is something inherently ‘60’s’ about Peter Weiss’s drama, and indeed the Artaudian Theatre of Cruelty style it is presented in. Also, this is the RSC, dahling – and as the Daily Mail has so readily demonstrated with it‘s ridiculously sensationalised summary of this show (which I won’t add a link to for reasons of intelligence and decency) this material still has the capability to shock, and a traditional RSC audience is not used to such outlandish scenes.

So let’s get this out of the way first. Yes, Anthony Neilson’s production is shocking. As someone used to every kind of theatre you can think of, I still balked at the image of a bishop getting sucked off my a buxom midget, or of a cross-dressing Marquis De Sade being tied up and repeatedly tasered, or even of Nicholas Day being stripped naked and gang raped by a giant dildo – but this isn’t shock for shock’s sake, there is a point to be made here.

Set in 1808 in a post revolutionary France, Marat/Sade is almost entirely a “play within a play”. This play is being staged by the inmates and nurses of Charenton Asylum, and overseen by the infamous Marquis De Sade (played charismatically by Jasper Britton). His play attempts to tell the story of the assassination of Jean-Paul Marat. Throughout, De Sade conducts many philosophical dialogues with Marat about the nature of revolution, and observes the proceedings with detached amusement as the disturbed individuals around him enact scenes of revolution and rebellion.

The most obvious change from the original piece is that Neilson has updated the action. It is still set in the 1800’s, but the physical look of the show has changed. While we are witnessing the fallout of the French revolution, there is a distinct Middle Eastern theme to Charlotte Corday’s costume as she kills Marat with a handgun, and patients are controlled via smart phones.

Speaking of the physical look of the piece, I have to mention Chahine Yavroyan’s lighting. I’m not normally one to dwell on scenography, preferring instead to take in the piece as a whole, but Yavroyan’s lighting was a triumph. It set the scene perfectly and used some mind-boggling effects at times – indeed, the moment when the whole theatre seemed to sway and move was so impressive I completely forgot about the spectacle on stage, staring dumbstruck at the balcony opposite me as it seemed to move and shift.

The staging too, is beautiful in it’s simplicity – a bare stage with bare iron ladders curving over the audience, creating a grid and an empty space to create any image the ever-changing story dictates. The whole thing is incredibly well designed and executed, allowing the patients of the asylum to loom over the audience on the ladders, hang off precariously at times, and use the runways to get up close and personal to those seated in the stalls.

The piece is performed admirably by the large cast, with all committing to the play’s strong demands from its actors. I was uncomfortable at first with the idea of an able-bodied cast doing out-dated impressions of patients with learning difficulties, but this aspect of the production is approached tastefully, and no one in the cast has slipped into caricature or cliché, instead portraying these patients subtly when necessary, but also allowing them the freedom to lash out when the script dictates it.

Jasper Britton, as I previously mentioned, stands out as De Sade who is the orchestrator of this event, but there are great performances from all, most notably Imogen Joel as a shivering and narcoleptic Charlotte Corday, and Lisa Hammond who gives a spectacular take on the Herald – revelling in every aspect of the play being performed, especially the more disturbing and sadistic acts.

And so we come to the main flaw in Neilson’s production, and it is a flaw that marred the entire production for me. It all looks very good, and it’s certainly shocking, but in focussing so doggedly on the shock-and-awe tactics employed here, Neilson seems to bypass the main points of the play. Marat’s freedom from oppression is something that could really speak to a modern audience, but it is a message that is lost in the hubbub around it. In the same way, the individualism that Sade champions is something a modern audience can identify with, but that message is only ever drilled home when something utterly appalling is happening on stage at the same time, so is lost in the ether.

This is an insightful play, but the sensationalist staging here means that anything I might have taken away from it was lost. Instead I left as many did, a bit shell-shocked, impressed at the grandeur and ambition of the piece, but totally confused about why it all happened.

Othello @ Crucible Theatre, Sheffield

17/09/11

On seeing the RSC’s Othello, directed by Kathryn Hunter, I swore never to see another production of Othello again. It is my favourite Shakespeare play, and she butchered it. Never again would I witness Shakespeare’s greatest villain laughing like a pantomime baddie as the curtain came down, never again would I see my favourite of Shakespeare’s stories ruined by someone who just didn’t get it…yet two years later, here I am.

I have never seen The Wire, so it was not the lure of Dominic West and Clarke Peters that drew me; but I did want to remedy the damage that Kathryn Hunter did, and pay another visit to my favourite play. Directed by Daniel Evans, this Othello is presented in traditional garb and traditional simplicity, but don’t for any second think this is boring. This is one of the most psychologically detailed and rich productions of the play I have seen – and I’ve seen a few!

From the opening scene we see Iago, a plainly spoken Northern soldier. He is not the spider we see in other adaptations of this text, nor is he some master chess player, moving the pieces to suit his own end – instead he is a negative, destructive bull of a man, who’s surface honesty is such, that it is totally unfathomable to anyone around him that he could be villainous. This is the only interpretation of Iago I have seen that drew laughs from the audience – even in moments of abject horror, the audience are complicit with Iago and are almost on his side, despite the horror of his actions.

West’s grip of the dialogue is such that nothing is thrown away, and we see the bitterness simmering just beneath the surface. The best example of this is when Emilia calls him ‘honest‘, drawing attention to his working class background among officers, he sneers in hatred, before gritting his teeth and barking out a sarcastic laugh, leering in at Emilia as he does it. It is a moment that sends a chill down the spine. West’s Iago moves from one reason to another in a bid to explain why he does what he does – he is angry at being passed over for officer, he hears rumour Othello has bedded his wife – but this Iago in such a way that even he isn’t really sure why he does it.

I’ve always found Othello a difficult role – he is incredibly intelligent and eloquent, charming the court and Desdemona’s father with the story of their courtship, yet he falls for Iago’s lies so easily. Peters is compelling, but I found his portrayal erratic. It is only because I’m so familiar with the text that I was aware of it, but he appeared to reword some of the lines, and in some cases, forget to say them altogether.

It seems Peters fell into the ‘Shakespeare trap’, as my old tutor used to call it, wherein he tried to force emotion through the dense dialogue, instead of allowing the text to do the work for him. I did see this play very early in the run, so I hope this is something he has now remedied, as I’m sure there is potential for a mind-blowing performance. Saying that, Peters had some moments where he rose to the challenge, particularly when playing against West, who seemed to bring out the best in Peter’s performance.

There’s also some fantastic work from the supporting players. Cassio, played by Gwylim Lee solves the problem of Othello’s jealousy coming from nowhere, by actually giving him something to be jealous of. Cassio is a smooth-talking, charismatic, Florentine gentleman, who clearly has chemistry with Desdemona. Even though that chemistry isn’t acted upon, it’s not at all surprising that Othello suspects the pair, and it’s not surprising that Iago selects him as an enemy. Iago lingers over the fact that Cassio, unlike himself, has never seen battle, and only knows of a soldiers life through books – yet he takes the officers job over the ‘honest’ Iago. Hell, I’d be looking for a bit of revenge if I were Iago!

Alexandra Gilbreath’s Emilia, the put-upon wife of Iago, is another little gem. Emilia lights up the stage, beautifully portraying the entire spectrum of emotions Emilia goes through as she skirts around West‘s barrelling Iago. The maternal relationship she has with Lily James’ Desdemona is really quite touching, and her guilt, as she gradually becomes aware of her role in her husbands scheming, is breathtaking. It’s just a fantastic performance of a role that is often overlooked.

Morgan Large’s set is deceptively simple, and incredibly well used. With a looming stone wall at the rear, and a beautifully constructed mosaic of the floor which subtly shifts throughout the performance, the space is left completely open and interchangeable. The production as a whole was incredibly strong throughout – in previous adaptations directors have focussed on the possibility of Iago’s latent homosexuality, or the idea that Othello did indeed bed Emilia, but Evan’s production does not make such presumptions. Instead this show presents Shakespeare’s text exactly how it is written, and no doubt not a million miles away from how it was originally performed, with its many verbal nuances and shades, open to any interpretation an audience member wishes to make. I am rarely disappointed when I visit the Crucible, and this is just another example of the great work they’re doing up there.

There are certainly ups and downs in this production, but it’s rare to get such clarity in a production of this play, and it’s worth the trip up north simply to witness the best portrayal of Iago I have ever seen.

Decade @ Commodity Quay

07/09/11

I find Headlong a difficult company to be a fan of. For every Enron, there is an Earthquakes in London to convince you that the brilliance of Enron was a fluke; because of this, I had mixed feelings about Rupert Goold’s 9/11 retrospective, however, being a sucker for a site-specific piece, I thought I’d give it a go.

With contributions from 20 different writers, Decade takes an episodic structure, looking at 9/11 itself from a variety of angles and the way in which our world has changed since that fateful day. There is Headlong’s usual mix of movement, drama and striking scenography, as well as some fascinating insights into the effect that one day has had on all of us.

On arrival, we enter the performance space after a surly interview from US border control, we are then sent via a red staircase into a replica of the Windows on the World restaurant. There is something incredibly chilling about Miriam Buether’s design – particularly the walls on either side of the room as we look at the view as it would have been from the top of the World Trade Centre. Buether’s design is such that the audience around breakfast tables, while the cast move around on tables and on the high stage in the centre of the room.

The show is largely a collage of reactions to 9/11, but there are some stories that deviate slightly. The best part for me was Mike Bartlett’s contribution, about a journalist who cynically tracks down Osama Bin Laden’s killer and questions him – the pace is lightning fast and injected with humour and pathos in Bartlett’s usual inimitable style.

Ella Hickson’s contribution is also one of the standouts of the evening – telling the cynical tale of a gift shop salesman at Ground Zero, who exploits distressed and upset female tourists in order to convince them to go to bed with him. It illicited laughs of incredulity on the night I attended, and left me with an uncomfortable feeling as Headlong examine the nature of the Ground Zero tourism.

Perhaps the piece that stood out for me the most was the meeting of the widows, taking the form of ten short scenes mapping the progress each widow made since 9/11 – and in turn how the nation grieved with them. In the midst of this was a short scene from the waitress that served these widows, who discussed the fact that her birthday will never quite be the same again. This rang incredibly true for me, as my birthday is on September 11^th, and many of this waitresses sentiments were things I have been heard to say these past ten years.

The episodic nature of the piece means that, inevitably, this is a bit of a mixed bag. Some sections I found moving and incredibly exciting to watch, whereas others felt a little unnecessary. Simon Schama’s piece embodied that for me, as an historian tries to place 9/11 in a historical context – it was lengthy, academic, and took on a lecture-like form that didn’t sit well with the rest of the show.

In terms of Rupert Goold’s direction there were a lot of positives. The use of the space was nothing short of brilliant. Each scene was treated with discretion and imagination, and Scott Ambler’s movement sequences took on an almost tribal-like quality at times, giving atmosphere to the piece and sometimes a pause to digest what we had just witnessed.

I must admit, I find this a difficult play to review. The piece was performed and directed incredibly well, but I do think that it was too long, and the episodic structure meant that the piece lacked clarity. The contributions of different writers was interesting, but with such a massive task to tackle, a single writer with a single vision would have been much more effective. At times I craved just a simple retelling of events – maybe there is room for exploration with regards to a verbatim piece?

I believe there is definitely a place in theatre to examine the lasting effects of 9/11, but tackling one or two of the issues raised would be a play by itself – looking at ten years of history in one play was just too ambitious. With dozens of different angles I simply felt bombarded, and the issues Headlong were trying to address became muddied and overwhelmed.

The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik: Deep Sea Explorer @ Burton Taylor Studio

08/09/11

I don’t normally review shows that I see at my place of work due to previously stepping on a few toes with an ill-timed review, but as this show has now, sadly, left our studio for greener pastures, I simply could not contain myself any longer. I must tell you about this show.

The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik: Deep Sea Explorer has won critical praise around the world, most recently in Edinburgh when it was a complete sell-out. Try as I might, I couldn’t get tickets for it – I am reliably informed that one intrepid theatre-goer even attempted bribery in an attempt to get in to see the last show, to no avail. And it is fresh from this success that Alvin Sputnik arrived in the Burton Taylor Studio. 

One-man storyteller Tim Watts tells the tale of a post-apocalyptic world. Nature’s “Menopausal rage” has melted the ice caps, and only a few humans remain on earth, living atop skyscrapers to escape the rising ocean. Alvin Sputnik lives a quiet life with his wife, Elena, until she passes away in his arms. Alvin, with nothing left to lose and nothing to live for, decides to dive to the bottom of the ocean to search for her soul.

Watt’s has created theatrical magic here. Alvin is a triumph in puppetry – ingeniously portrayed by a white glove and a ball of foam. Watt’s breathes life into his creation (well…his hand.) in such a way that you just fall in love with Alvin. He is sweet, loving, kind and very very funny. Watt’s has also cleverly combined the live action scenes and puppetry with animation, music and film using a large circular screen with which he interacts throughout as Alvin explores the deep. The effect is completely original, and left the audience gasping in delight at times.

There is a child-like wonder to everything Watt’s has created; he is energetic, playful and charming, but also restrained when necessary. Nothing is overdone here, instead Watts allows the beautiful story to tell itself in a deceptively simple way. And that is the joy of this show – the story is funny, and heart-warming, but is also full of loss and grief, creating lots of lump-in-throat moments and some all-out heart-breakers. (I am particularly reminded of the sad and joyful cry of “I love you!” towards the end of the show.)

This show is worth every single word of praise it has already received; this is a show that kids will enjoy, but adults will probably enjoy more. To quote my boyfriend, who emerged from this show just as excited as I was, it’s almost impossibly sweet.  Wonderful, beautiful, heart-warming and tear jerking, Alvin is a story about quiet heroism and enduring love: is there anything more you could want from a trip to the theatre?

James Reviews: Batman Live

A message from Theatre Punk:

As promised, here is the first review from the only darn professional on this blog! James works primarily in film journalism, but has been torn from his comfortable press screening room into the world of theatre. Keep an eye out for his reviews on here which, no doubt, will be much more insightful than anything we could write!

Over to you James…

24/08/11

Let’s get this out of the way- I am not a ‘theatre guy’. I have been to, and enjoyed, lots of productions in my time, but cannot profess the same passion for this world as others who have written on this site. However, this seems somewhat appropriate, as “Batman Live” is not your traditional type of theatre. For starters, it’s an ‘arena tour’, then there’s the multi-million pound budget, the ‘unprecedented’ (the publicity department’s words, not mine) scale… basically, this is to fringe theatre what a U2 concert is to a gig in the back of a pub.

Two reservations remained, however, as I approached the familiar dome- how will the O2 handle a theatrical production? Even if it is more of a stunt show than a play, can it hold the attention of 20,000 (most of which, no doubt, will be sugar-filled youngsters)? Secondly, the ever-present concern of whether the production will ‘get’ Batman. The world of Gotham is easy to get wrong (exhibit A- 1997’s “Batman & Robin” film), and lest we forget over in Broadway the infamous “Spider-man: Turn Off The Dark” debacle, so how will they balance the dark world of Batman whilst still keeping it family friendly?

The first thing that struck me as we waited for the gates to open was the diverse array of people in the crowd- obviously, the throng of under-10’s charging around in masks and capes, but also groups of teens, young couples, thirty-somethings, businessmen… I even saw a couple that must have been in their seventies eagerly clutching a programme. The appeal of The Dark Knight is clearly wide-reaching, or at least that was the impression before I entered… and found half of an arena. The upper half of the O2’s seating was ‘blacked out’ with curtains, leaving what I assume is just a little over half of the seats available. The website implies this is planned, as they state the show is designed for crowds of 4,000-10,000, however it did give a strange sense of intimacy to a usually vibrant arena.

First impressions of the production however, were mind-blowing. The stage was Gotham, a roughly Manhattan-shaped island with buildings, skyscrapers and at its rear a giant bat-shaped screen which would provide the background. The real marvel was to come when the show opened, and revealed the stage to be a technological marvel- buildings sunk into the stage or revolved, so the combination of this and the screen (which also opened up to accommodate bigger props) could make this stage anything they wanted it to be.

The show begins with a brief origin story of Bruce Wayne’s parents, and how revenge drove him to become Gotham’s savour- Batman. We are then transported- and I mean transported- to Gotham’s circus, complete with streamers, ‘horses’, jugglers and a trapeze show. We are then thrust into the origin story of Dick Grayson, whose parents are killed at the hands of an unknown assailant, and is put in the care of Bruce. The pair conflict with each other as Bruce struggles to keep his identity as Batman a secret, and prevent Dick from trying to seek out revenge. The murder turns out to be a plot by the evil joker, who takes over the circus and hatches a plan to destroy the Caped Crusader, using the future Boy Wonder as bait. Aiding him in this is the full rogue’s gallery, including .

The show is a wonder to look at. Every penny of the bloated budget is there on the stage, with the aesthetics genuinely feeling like a circus, Wayne Manor, Arkham Asylum, and many more locations. We are also treated to spectacular dancing, acrobatics, and props that would make any West End show green with envy- hot air balloons, a giant Joker head, and of course the impressive Batmobile (a modified Formula 1 car). The first act is perhaps less impressive, owing no doubt to the fact that it is trying to appeal to everyone. This act is full of backstory, and that makes for a somewhat slow pace (albeit with the welcome distraction of some wonderful acrobatics). The general tone is a little pulpy, somewhat like a Dick Tracy serial, which will not please fans of the darker Christopher Nolan interpretation (although, to be fair, that would be a tough sell to a crowd of families).

 Perhaps the scene that sums up the production’s issues is Batman’s rooftop fight with Catwoman, which is an exercise in ambition versus practicality. The way it is done feels jarring and unclear, with the scale making for a confusing set piece. Basically, it looks great but doesn’t really get you anywhere. The second half is far more entertaining, thanks almost entirely to the presence of The Joker- played by a wonderfully maniacal Mark Frost. Equal parts humorous and menacing, it’s the stand-out performance of the night. We are then treated to what we came for- fights, explosions, big props, and a frankly terrifying climactic scene (complete with hanging corpses) in Arkham Asylum.

Overall, this is a crowd pleaser, a fun family night out that tries to give everyone something to be excited about (there are darker moments that will no doubt please fans of the comics), but really is a big bucket-load of Hollywood glitter thrown in your face. A cross between a west end show and the ‘live spectaculars’ that you might find in a theme park, there’s very few that won’t find this hugely entertaining, and children will be absolutely entranced.

Length: Approx. 2 hours inc. interval (Act one: 50 mins; Act two: 45 Mins).

Programme Price: £15. (capes and masks sold separately!).

My Festival: The Reviews

 Shakespeare For Breakfast

 

Shakespeare For Breakfast has become a staple of my Fringe experience; putting aside the free coffee and croissant you get with your ticket, the show is really just a great way to wake yourself up if you’re feeling a bit show-fatigued. This year’s production is Macbeth, but filtered through some High School movie clichés, and, as always, it’s fast-paced, funny and rather well written.

At Castle High School, Duncan is head boy and favourite of the overbearing and glory-hunting PE teacher, Mr Macduff. Meanwhile Macbeth (Joseph Morpurgo) is visited by three Goths, one of whom is hilariously portrayed a glove puppet, who predict his rise to be head of Cawdor House and ultimately head boy. When his ambitious cheerleader girlfriend, Beth, (Felicity Russell) hears of this, she schemes to embarrass Duncan and install Macbeth as head boy.

This year’s production is much better than it has been in previous years, and i really enjoyed previous years!  The writing is slick and treads that line between traditional and more topical jokes really well – the acting is also well above the normal standard. Tomas Wolstenholme is just outstanding as Mr Macduff, and his comic timing worthy of a much much larger audience. The rest of the cast are great too, though perhaps outshone slightly by Wolstenholme’s performance.

This is essentially a Fringe panto. There is audience participation, jokes about the tiny cast, a musical number, and a few blue jokes thrown in for good measure. It’s probably not going to win awards, it may not be innovative and life changing, but it’s incredibly good fun, and will set you in good stead for a day of Fringe fun. Highly recommended. 

Little Matter

 

I feel this review needs some explanation. When I stepped into the tiny theatre set around a beautiful wagon, I first registered the delightful folk music filling the space, then I inhaled and my heart sank. The River People had, I suppose in an attempt to engage all senses, filled the air with inscense. Unfortunately for me, I am violently allergic to inscence and air fresheners, so was immediately dreading the following hour. I understand that not everyone had this problem, but I was immediately put off. I noticed quite a lot of other people coughing too – and spotted one mother subtly trying to give her son his inhaler in the middle of the show. Perhaps a sign or something similar outside the tent would help to warn people?

Anyway, I was understandably a little distracted during the performance as my arms broke out in hives and my eyes started streaming, but I struggled on as, despite my whinging, I really am a big fan of The River People.

Tucked away in a car park off Chambers Street, The River People present their usual blend of puppetry, music and storytelling, telling the story of a young man who feels he has not reached his full potential, wrapping this tale in magic and myth.

There are echoes of their previous production Lilly Through The Dark here as The River People once again examine the light and dark in all of us. However, where Lilly was driven by a fantastic story, Little Matter lacks this. The music, atmosphere and tehcnical skill are all there, but the story is not. The narrative is muddled and often appeared incomplete. What started as a tale of a man who did not live up to his potential became a confusing and convoluted trip into the subconscious; encountering potential children and dark characters along the way. And then, seemingly from nowhere, the whole thing was blamed upon an absent parent. I really wanted to like this, The River People are one of my favourite companies at the moment and they have bags of potential, but this one just doesn’t match up to the very high bar they have previously set.

Saying that there were some lovely moments of storytelling and puppetry, most notable the ogre of a boss with glowing green eyes. The music was also beautifully executed, and the design was great (though the lighting a little low for intricate puppetry). All four actors were brilliant actor/musicians, and there is something incredibly endearing about seeing such talented people appear so humble.

I am confident that with some polishing this show could be just as great as their previous productions. I wonder if the wagon signals a swing towards rural touring, because The River People would no doubt bring a lot of joy to smaller communities. 

Street Dreams

 

It appears I am on something of a puppetry binge this Festival. Street Dreams was the only time flyering actually worked on me, as it was handed to me while I was queueing for Swamp Juice, and as I had a gap I thought I’d give it a go. This is puppetry at its simple and glorious best.

The story is a simple one. A little hobo tries desperately to read his book in peace, but is distracted by his rubbish dump companions. Because of this, he decides to emigrate to the grassy land he spotted just a short umbrella ride away. When there, he realises that home really is where the heart is, and travels back to be with his old friends.

A silent and simple puppet show, Little Cauliflower use bits of scrap and things from the rubbish bin to create a rich and engaging world. The birds are made from carrier bags, his rubbish dump friends a rubber glove and old banana skins. It’s lovely to see the young company breathe life into these ordinary objects.

The main puppet, that of the hobo, could perhaps be a little more expressive – his movements weren’t immediately clear, and took some guesswork to figure out his intent, but you were willing to make that effort, as the company had instilled in this little puppet a warm and child-like personality.

I am unaware of Little Cauliflower’s work until now, but this show shows some promise. The music and puppetry is delicate, if not totally accomplished, and the story is really quite touching.  It’s a very sweet play, and I’m sure this would be particularly great for children, though may not have the universal appeal I have seen in other puppet shows.

And The Birds Fell From the Sky

 

Sitting in a darkened and dirty waiting room, watching a broken TV relaying newsreels of a freak occurrence in America, I wondered what I had let myself in for. I had no idea what Birds Fell was when I bough the ticket, but, like most things at the Fringe, a friend had recommended it, so I had to give it a go.

Performed every 15 minutes for only 2 people, its worth seeing this piece if only for the technological innovation involved. The show takes place on some video goggles, while you and your companion are drawn, both physically and mentally into this world taking place before your eyes.

The smells and sensations around you completely match up with what you are experiencing visually – a clown spits alcohol over you and you feel it hit your skin, smelling the pungent alcohol smell in your nostrils. Objects are placed in your hands, and you are seated in a car and taken on a wild ride.

The difficulty with this show is the story itself. If there was a story, I was so disoriented by the style that I found it impossible to follow, and even if I were completely nonplussed by the goggles, it would still have been incredibly difficult to understand. As a piece of art it was certainly interesting. The car full of clowns was a powerful image, but they overcomplicated the story for the audience who are new to this style.

Those niggles aside, this is a nicely innovative show that stays with you for some time. I particularly enjoyed all the small touches that made the show that bit more special: a phone number you can call afterwards, a keepsake that unravels to become a tarot reading, and a parish newsletter in the waiting room. This appears to be the start of something new. It covers ground that Alma Mater tackles a little more delicately, but the intent is the same. This is the next level of immersive theatre – first person theatre, if you will.

My Festival: The Reviews

Swamp Juice

What an unexpected delight. Scamp’s reputation precedes them, but my only experience of them was the beautifully crafted Private Peaceful (also at the Fringe this year – though I saw it in 2009) – I wasn’t expecting the puppet menagerie awaiting me.

Set in the eponymous swamp, Jeff Achtem fills the story with creatures in various forms, but the main story follows the journey of one little man’s determined pursuit of Birdie, his Roadrunner styled nemesis who is always one step ahead of him.

The apppeal of this show is its simplicity – it’s a very basic story performed incredibly well by a supremely talented actor. Achtem is superb – bumbling, shy and instantly endearing, he effortlessly brings his shadow puppets to life with breathtaking realism, despite being made from cardboard and bits of scrap. His adorable performance style means that, even in the shows darker moments, no child is frightened as Achtem draws them into his world as though a child himself. (“That took me a week!” he exclaims proudly, pointing to one of his puppet creations)

At various stages he involves the audience in creating his beautiful shadow world, inducing squeals of delight from adults and kids alike, and as we reach the end he adds another fantastic element as we all don those familiar red and blue glasses and the shadows become 3D! “Avatar, eat your heart out,” says Jeff – I have to agree!

This show is perfect fringe fodder, and deserves to be seen by a much wider audience. I doubt you will ever see shadow puppets so lifelike and full of character – and you’ll find yourself thinking “Here Birdie Birdie Birdie” long after you’ve left the theatre.

　
Translunar Paradise

I went to this show on the recommendation of my twitter feed and thank goodness I did. Theatre Ad Infinitum tell the story of a man who is lost following the death of his wife. Lonely and mourning, he copes by reliving treasured memories of his wife and their life together, from meeting and courtship, through to sadder memories of heartbreak and loss.

Told entirely without words, with only an accordion/singer for accompaniment, this show could very easily have slipped into schmaltz, but instead this show packs an emotional punch I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before in a theatre.
The masks used to portray the elderly couple force meaning into the simplest of gesture. A tapping finger, a glance to the left – all create a full and moving picture of a man bereft of his life partner. The lack of words was heartbreaking – there was no weeping or wailing, no beating of the chest – instead there was an unspoken sense of loss that needed no words.

The man and his wife’s older selves are played using handheld masks that are pulled away when they play the younger versions of themselves. The effect is extraordinarily poignant, their whole bodies becoming younger and more full of life. George Mann and Deborah Pugh delicately portray these scenes of the younger couple – the movements suggesting snapshots of utter happiness. Even an argument between the couple becomes just another expression of love.

Perhaps the moment that will remains with me longest is that of our elderly friend distracting himself from his loneliness by making a cup of tea – only to absent-mindedly pick up two cups from the cupboard. As I describe this I realise I am making it sound like a maudlin and depressing tale, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. For each moment of sadness there is another of joy as we celebrate their incredible life together.

I rarely give praise without fault, but I fell completely in love with this show. I, like most of the sell-out audience, wept unashamedly as Theatre Ad Infinitum taught us that death isn’t really the end, so long as we keep the memory of loved ones alive. See this show. Bring tissues and tell your friends, such a sublime and beautiful piece of theatre should be seen by as many people as possible. It’s astounding how much you can say without words, and this company says it perfectly. 

Comedian Dies in the Middle of Joke

            Forest Fringe is, in my opinion, the greatest venue the fringe has to offer. With free tickets and a bohemian style, the place seems to encapsulate exactly what the Fringe is all about. This fun little show is set in the middle of a comedians failing comedy set, and as if his day couldn’t get any worse, he’s going to be shot at the end of the set.

Written by Ross Sutherland Comedian Dies In The Middle Of Joke is an interactive play for small groups, where audience members take it in turns to play the various parts on offer. There’s the sycophantic agent, the party table, the insulted soldier and many more, and a fortunate few even get a chance to be the comedian. The reason everyone changes around so much is that our eponymous comedian is stuck in a 6 minute time loop – and no matter what happens, he’s going to die at the end of that 6 minutes.

            If nothing else, this show was really great fun. There was something really engaging about coming up with various lines and barbs depending on the character you were playing, and the ‘6 minute loop’ repetition was quite effective as we witnessed our comedian struggling to overcome the inevitable. It was also a very social event – I went in alone, but I emerged chatting animatedly about the show and agreeing to meet my fellow audience members for a drink.

            Saying that, this show isn’t going to change lives. It has a powerful ending, and the repetition is very effective, but when you boil this show down, it’s really just a very clever parlour game. However, this was a parlour game I was more than happy to play.

Crunch

 

Another Forest Fringe show (I told you I love that venue!), Crunch is pretty unique for fringe shows. Part lecture, part sales pitch, part motivational life coaching, Crunch examines the worlds over-reliance on money, and asks us to question this once in a while.

            In his sharp suit and slicked back hair style, Gary McNair presents his lecture on the money, explaining its history, and presenting it to us for what it really is, just a belief system like any other. He asks us to enter his five-step programme to rid ourselves of the tyranny of money and take back control. After all, he explains, we are the ones who really decide the value of that bit of paper with £10 printed on it.

McNair is honest and charming, and uses various techniques to show audiences the true value of money. There is an auction for a sealed envelope containing an unknown sum of money, and as he attempts to purchase a bag from an audience member he offers things that, perhaps, have more worth – building your flat pack furniture for example, or cooking you a meal.

However, what most people will be talking about when they leave is the moment when Mcnair, like a faith healer or preacher, invites people up onto the stage to be ‘cured’ of their obsession with money. He then unveils a shredder and asks for volunteers to take the money from their wallets and shred it. What is fascinating is the amount of people that queue up to do it. They laugh in delight as their money is shredded before their eyes and take away the tiny pieces as a souvenir. Some throw them in the air like confetti, some take them grinning back to their seats, but all look happy and satisfied with their decision to do it.

            Crunch, oddly, leaves you feeling quite good about yourself. McNair isn’t telling anyone to live without money, that would be impossible, but he is asking his audience to see it for what it is – unimportant in the grand scheme of things. It’s a refreshing message, and while I didn’t get up there to shred my hard-earned cash, I did leave with a much lighter view of my financial situation: after all, it’s only money.