Issue 18 - 2004
Prompt Corner 
Another terse Prompt Corner, as the aftermath of Edinburgh continues. For the first half of the period covered by this issue, I was either covering the bitter end of the Fringe or yo-yoing back up there from London to catch the final theatre offering at the International Festival (and that supplement is on its way, I promise). Of the five London shows I caught in the remaining six nights, one - the NYT Master And Margarita - was covered in the last issue, and two more are reviewed by me in the body of this one. Which leaves me here to ponder on a petering-out pachyderm and a paso doble for past... no, let's leave the alliteration there.
Outside the box
The Elephant Vanishes is, of course, a work of visual and imaginative wonder, and I count myself lucky to have seen it. It's almost the stage equivalent of the multi-layered video imaging techniques Peter Greenaway played with in his film Prospero's Books, only more resonant and less indulgent (closer, perhaps, to Greenaway's earlier, truncated collaboration with artist and poet Tom Phillips on A TV Dante). Simon McBurney thinks outside the theatrical box in the most astounding, literal ways, and the set and lighting design respectively of Michael Levine and Paul Anderson help him realise his ideas with a fluid grace.
You can hear the "But..." coming, can't you? It's related to those notions of the exotic that I waffled about several issues ago. It struck me that both the mode of staging, and the content of the Haruki Murakami short stories selected by McBurney for adaptation, fall into line with a particular kind of reductive image of Japan and the Japanese: easy exotica. In this case, it's a contemporary strain of exotica, that of a nation of hi-tech workaholics whose lives are out of balance as a result of losing touch with older cultural values. The latter point, indeed, is broadly what the three stories have in common: a sense of imbalance, of disconnection, of not-rightness. Yet nowhere do the strands of drama here suggest precisely what it is that's missing, and nowhere does the staging leave a space for it. This is a dazzlingly complex show, but it's complex like the innards of an electrical gizmo, not like the person's life that happens to include the use of that gizmo. If you see what I mean.
Patchy
Similar gaps and unanswered questions hamper Rhashan Stone's Two Step. Stone, already known as a gifted actor, reveals himself in his first play to have a fine ear for dialogue, a less brilliant but still solid sense of character, but an as yet patchy grasp of how to turn these to the service of the themes he wants to investigate. That's fine: far rather that way round for a playwright than the other, being well versed in the deep stuff and cack-handed at dramatic interest. [Editor clears his throat with a cough which could be imagined to sound like "Carl Djerassi!"] It's Stone's misfortune that, coming at the end of the summer's slack period and being staged at a venue as cachet-ful as the Almeida as part of an important strand such as Push 04, his play has been subjected to more intense scrutiny than it might otherwise have received.
Charles Spencer's Telegraph review is a fascinating instance. Using the "as a [whatever]..." line of argument is normally to be deplored; however, Charlie's past and present not only give him a particular qualification to consider the portrayal here of the twelve-step programme and one of its acolytes, but it would have been unreasonable of him not to bring his particular knowledge of the subject to bear on this play. But this aspect isn't everything, and indeed Charles acknowledges as much. For a review just as critical from a "secular" standpoint, compare Nicholas de Jongh's: he makes the dual points that Josette Bushell-Mingo's more than able direction and Bernadette Roberts' design may over-indulge the symbolic vein in Stone's writing, and that (as I'd put it) someone should tell Ricci McLeod that if he's playing a wannabe-tough teen, then spending the whole time in a frozen pout really doesn't help the machismo.
Mesmerising
And then the Edinburgh transfers begin. I went back to see Thom Pain again on its Soho opening. (Frustrated exhibitionist that I am, I remarked to its producer after seeing it in Edinburgh, "Damn you, that makes three plays I want to perform before I die!") I was a little worried that it might not have the same impact on a subsequent viewing. My fears were groundless; it's still magnificent. James Urbaniak has enlarged his performance just a little to take account of the Soho space, not too much; and Will Eno's monologue remains a mesmerising hour-long expansion of Samuel Beckett's "I must go on. I can't go on. I'll go on." Let me also take this opportunity to slip in one more plug for the performer of Hard To Believe at the Riverside, big Séan Kearns, whom I've seen playing a range of roles from Lennie in Of Mice And Men to the Nurse in Romeo And Juliet, and who deserves to be beloved of thousands.
The Pull Of Negative Gravity has received no reviews on its Colchester transfer (it being a co-production between that city's Mercury Theatre and the Traverse in Edinburgh), so it would be unfair of me to pre-empt its yet-to-be-reprinted reviews here. Of the remaining transfer, Bombshells, it's worth pointing out a significant difference between the Edinburgh and London versions: Edinburgh Fringe audiences saw four monologues staged without a break, whereas the version at the Arts reinstates two further pieces and an interval. Look carefully at the dates above each of its reviews, and you may conclude as I do that critics seem to find more flab in the London version. Alastair Macaulay is moved to particular mordancy, in a review that drips with his relief at having been excused Edinburgh this summer, rather leaving it all to FT colleagues who shall remain modestly nameless except in the byline of this column...
Ian Shuttleworth
At the Back
It's been rather a good fortnight for me - how was it for you?
The pleasure lay in the variety as much as the quality, for several evenings had that "could do better" feeling in the background, but the cumulative effect of two NYT shows, two revivals, two new plays and two American musicals was almost euphoric.
Oozed professionalism
After their rather tedious Master And Margarita it was a relief to catch the NYT back on form with Faliraki, much in the mode of last year's hit Immaculate Conceit and compensating in drive and energy for its more superficial look at today's yoof. It had some of the looseness of a devised work, but Paul Roseby gave it real shape, managing to keep a large cast well occupied: where in the Bulgakov you felt at times that you were watching a not very competent school play, Faliraki oozed professionalism. A welcome bonus was the late show, one of almost a dozen new writing projects developed over the year. 'low dat offered a fascinating monochrome counterpoint to the colour of Faliraki, with its young people trapped on a grey, standard issue Royal Court estate but going through much the same pains of youth. Jess Walters' simple but strong (and very well written) story was played out by another fine group of young actors - you felt sad that they, like the other Short NYTs performers and writers, would get only a couple of nights' exposure, but let's take it as welcome evidence of the impressive work rate NYT is achieving under its new direction.
Love and self-love
Not many directors jump straight to the West End for their debut, but Stephen Beresford's excellent Indian Twelfth Night justifies the risk taken by its brave producers, effortlessly translating Illyria to the subcontinent. It's a real joy to see its splendid Asian cast (I'd love to name them all, but let's be unfair and single out Harvey Virdi's bustling Maria, Paul Bazely's gangly Aguecheek and Shereen Martineau's no-nonsense Viola) capturing the spirit of Shakespeare's autumnal masterpiece, with all its playfulness and spite, love and self-love intact. Jonathan Fensom's design is a great help, capturing some of the contradictions of modern India which make it such an appropriate setting. A largely Asian audience loved it on the night I was there, but this is no sterile exercise in diversity; it's a Twelfth Night to set alongside the best.
Les convincing
The other revival, Sam Walters' staging of The Marrying Of Ann Leete, didn't carry the conviction of the Orange Tree's earlier adventures with Granville Barker, I think because it's a less convincing play. David Jones did it well for the RSC thirty years ago, but now the elliptical text seems to assume far more knowledge of what's going on than can be reasonably expected of an audience. Nor does Sam's decision to play the wedding reception act for broad bucolic comedy chime well with either the elegance of what has gone before or the simple life of the last act. It points up just how patronising Barker was being in his attempt to break the boundaries of class, and in doing so undermines his other theme, a woman's right to choose. Nonetheless, it was a pleasure to see so many Orange Tree stalwarts in this large-cast production.
Purgatorial update
Of the new plays, Adam Rapp's Gompers was the more alluring, in spite the far from alluring lives of its assortment of damaged characters. The press agent pleaded with me not to go to the first preview, but I found the cast completely at home in their roles, and very comfortable on Paul Wills' effectively cut-down set. The play is a purgatorial update of Our Town, yet its flashes of magic realism lift it above the total depression it could induce, rather in the way that Roland Schimmelpfennig's Arabian Night finds beauty in the most unlikely corners of desolation row. Super performances from a predominantly young cast, with the senior Ray Shell offering a useful cameo as Gompers's bewildered cop.
A new play from Joe Penhall should be an event, but Dumb Show turned out to be something of a disappointment. There's nothing wrong with the three performances, particularly Douglas Hodge's as the victim, which reached behind the preening mask of a TV comedian to find the panicky little man within. Penhall is using the regular reversals of sympathy which worked so well in Blue/Orange, but where his concern with mental health comes from close experience and shows his true passion, his desire to comment on exploitative journalism doesn't seem to be fuelled by the same sense of personal crusade. It's difficult to believe much of what happens on stage in Dumb Show, however much one wants to see the slippery reporters get the shafting (figurative rather than literal) they deserve, and the result is sadly shallow - entertainment without bite. The best thing about the evening is another light-box set from Es Devlin, which rings useful changes on the moods in a luxury hotel room with a couple of flicks of a curtain.
Leering innocence
Seeing the two musicals on successive nights was instructive. Bat Boy was being played in a very empty Shaftesbury, while Purlie was packing them in at the much smaller Bridewell. The hard-working cast of the former were completely out of their element, with a show which should have been in the Bridewell if anywhere at all. The critics have been very hard on this weird little show, and it's easy enough to see why. A fringe theatre essay in bad taste has been inflated beyond what it can bear: what bids to be another Rocky Horror Show becomes another Fields Of Ambrosia. Only towards the end did it start to achieve the leering innocence of Richard O'Brien, when I managed a few laughs between glances at my watch. With a raunchier director than Mark Wing-Davey, Bat Boy might have achieved the camped-up unity of style that it needed to survive, but as it stands it doesn't even reach the status of so-bad-it's-good. In all the ghastliness, it's easy to overlook the cleverness of Madeline Herbert's film-enhanced sets, which is a shame.
Nor are Laurence O'Keefe's songs too bad, but they don't stand comparison with the magnificent pastiche of Gary Geld and Peter Udell's contribution to Purlie. This is a wonderful old-style American musical, which should have been seen here long ago. At least it's finally been given its due by Omar Okai and his brilliant cast, with an economy staging good enough to bear comparison with my rosy memories of the Broadway version. The choreography is by Mykal Rand, fresh from doing the same for Release The Beat at the Arcola. It was Mr Rand whose choreography made the touring version of Rent so much better than the original Broadway-to-London transfer, and here he also puts in a deliciously sly performance as Gitlow. Once again it's invidious to single out performances, for this cast bats all the way down to the tail, from Tee Jaye and Joanna Francis in the leads to the Urdang Academy dancer-singers in the ensemble. They joyfully seize the great vocal opportunities offered by the songs, and Tee Jaye's Purlie has a wonderful way with his often long, sermonising speeches. With a beefed-up set and a full band, Purlie could easily fill the slot which is likely to become vacant all too soon at the Shaftesbury.
Terrible summer
The National and the RSC have both just issued results to make any heart
glad, with the former reporting massive audiences and the latter reducing
a massive deficit. It makes the current situation in the West End look
all the sadder - the commercial theatre has had a terrible summer. Can
it learn, perhaps, from the success of the Olivier's £10 Travelex experiment,
which has filled that difficult space? No commercial management could
offer Funny Thing. for a £25 top, but maybe they can take a lesson
from that £10 bottom. One producer I spoke to suggested that the West
End's bane is discounts - in order to offer twofers or seats at the TKTS
Booth, the top price gets dangerously inflated. That many West End seats
may be sold at less than marked price should be a warning to investors - a
show that "breaks even at 40%" may be getting less from a seemingly fullish
house.
Ian Herbert
Contents / Reviews
London |
||||
AUDACITY Revised revival of play by Simon Mawdsley |
Jermyn Street |
30 Aug |
25 Sep |
1088 |
BAT BOY Transfer of new musical by Laurence O'Keefe, book by Keythe Farley and Brian Flemming |
Shaftesbury |
8 Sep |
1121 |
|
BOMBSHELLS New collection of monologues by Joanna Murray-Smith |
Arts |
6 Sep |
30 Oct |
1110 |
DIRTY FAN MALE New piece by Jonny Trunk and Duncan Wisbey |
Warehouse Croydon |
8 Sep |
19 Sep |
1100 |
DUMB SHOW New play by Joe Penhall |
Royal Court |
7 Sep |
9 Oct |
1116 |
THE ELEPHANT VANISHES Return of piece conceived by Simon McBurney from Haruki Murakami stories |
Barbican |
3 Sep |
25 Sep |
1106 |
FALIRAKI - THE GREEK TRAGEDY Devised by paul Roseby with the company |
Lyric Studio |
26 Aug |
11 Sep |
1080 |
GOMPERS New play by Adam Rapp |
Arcola |
2 Sep |
18 Sep |
1098 |
HARD TO BELIEVE Revival of play by Conall Morrison |
Riverside |
3 Sep |
26 Sep |
1105 |
LIFE'S A DREAM Revival of play by Pedro Calderón de la Barca, adapted by John Barton & Adrian Mitchell |
Blue Elephant |
31 Aug |
18 Sep |
1115 |
THE LOUNGE ACT New play by Reg Ajuonuma |
White Bear |
2 Sep |
19 Sep |
1112 |
THE MARRYING OF ANN LEETE Revival of the play by Harley Granville Barker |
Orange Tree |
3 Sep |
2 Oct |
1102 |
"MASTER HAROLD"... AND THE BOYS Revival of the play by Athol Fugard |
Southwark Playhouse |
31 Aug |
18 Sep |
1090 |
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE Revival of play by Shakespeare |
Union |
2 Sep |
25 Sep |
1087 |
PROVING MR JENNINGS New play by James Walker |
Courtyard |
31 Aug |
25 Sep |
1097 |
PURLIE UK première of 1970 musical of story by Ossie Davis |
Bridewell |
2 Sep |
2 Oct |
1101 |
ROSS NOBLE: NOODLEMEISTER Solo comedy show |
Apollo |
7 Sep |
2 Oct |
1127 |
THOM PAIN (BASED ON NOTHING) New play by Will Eno |
Soho |
6 Sep |
24 Sep |
1113 |
TWELFTH NIGHT Revival of play by Shakespeare |
Albery |
26 Aug |
1082 |
|
TWO STEP New play by Rhashan Stone |
Almeida |
1 Sep |
18 Sep |
1093 |
Regions |
||||
ALICE ON THE UNDERGROUND Musical adaptation by Chris Bond et al. of the book by Lewis Carroll |
Hornchurch, Queen's |
31 Aug |
18 Sep |
1129 |
AMADEUS Revival of the play by Peter Shaffer |
Derby Playhouse |
2 Sep |
25 Sep |
1130 |
THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES Adapted by Clive Francis from the novel by Arthur Conan Doyle |
Nottingham Playhouse |
8 Sep |
25 Sep |
1131 |
MACBETH Revival of the play by Shakespeare |
Dundee Rep |
8 Sep |
25 Sep |
1133 |
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING Revival of the play by Shakespeare |
Salisbury Playhouse |
3 Sep |
25 Sep |
1131 |
OUTSIDE EDGE Revival of the play by Richard Harris |
Richmond |
31 Aug |
4 Sep |
1130 |
PRIVATE AGENDA New piece by 7:84 TC |
Paisley Arts Centre |
2 Sep |
4 Sep |
1132 |
PRIVATE LIVES Revival of the play by Noël Coward |
St Andrews, Byre |
20 Aug |
11 Sep |
1131 |