Theatre Things

Inspired by a 2022 visit to Matthew Bourne’s Car Man, Chickenshed’s latest production is a modernised adaptation of Bizet’s Carmen, set in a refugee camp ten years from now. Having already lost their homes, and now living at the mercy of the camp’s brutal army regime, the refugees have established a circus as the only opportunity to retain their voice and culture. The star of the show is Carmen (Bethany Hamlin), a fearless, passionate woman who’s not afraid to speak up for herself and for those who look to her for leadership. But when she finds herself caught between two men, arrogant fellow circus star Escamillo (Michael Bossisse) and jealous army guard Don Jose (Will Laurence) – who is himself pursued by the lovesick Micaela (Cerys Lambert) – can her independent spirit survive?

Bizet’s music is the starting point for a vibrant, creative production that brings the 150-year-old story bang up to date. Director Cara McInanny has worked with a core creative team of seven to retain the key themes, both musical and narrative, but set them to a fresh rap soundtrack performed by a diverse cast of 150. With its refugee camp setting, the show feels urgent and timely, and the addition of circus skills from several members of the cast brings an extra thrill of excitement, proving there really is very little the Chickenshed community can’t turn its hand to.

The performances from the central four actors are excellent, but Bethany Hamlin in particular dazzles as Carmen; whether dancing, singing, rapping or performing aerial hoop routines, she doesn’t put a foot wrong throughout the two-hour show. Her Carmen is feisty and sexy, but she also shows a vulnerability in quieter moments that make the character all the more real and relatable – we have no trouble believing that this is a woman who’s lost everything and is desperately clinging to the only stability she can find, by any means necessary.

The rap aspect of the show works well for the most part (although there are moments where the music drowns out the lyrics, making it hard to follow). Nor does the reworking of the music take away from Bizet’s classic melodies, which are all still there; in fact I challenge you to not walk out singing “Nar-ciss-is-tic personality….” set to the tune of “Toreador…” (Try it, it works.) The dance numbers are electric to watch, with brilliant choreography from Michael Bossisse, and bring even more energy to an already exhilarating show.

As fresh and exciting as Love from Carmen is, there are times, especially when the whole cast is on stage and it’s difficult to even identify who’s singing, that the spectacle of it all can get a bit overwhelming. This means that the quieter moments, when both audience and production are able to breathe for a minute, feel all the more powerful by contrast. The final scene, meanwhile, is full of drama and yet simultaneously stripped back in an incredibly clever and visually striking way, allowing it to perfectly walk the line between the two extremes, and bringing the show to a memorable conclusion.

Love from Carmen is, once again, an extraordinary showcase of the huge talent and creativity that lies within Chickenshed. It brings an old story into the 21st century, adding a political twist and opening it up to new audiences who might otherwise never have experienced it – and that in itself is worth applauding.

Thomas Hardy and circus are perhaps not two terms you’d usually hear in close proximity, but Ockham’s Razor defy all expectation with their adaptation of Hardy’s 1891 novel, Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Atmospheric, evocative and visually stunning, the show charts its heroine’s journey – both physical and metaphorical – through a world in which, so often, “the woman pays”.

After her family’s horse is killed in an accident, Tess Durbeyfield (Macadie Amoroso and Lila Naruse) is forced to take employment at the home of the rich D’Urberville family, who she believes to be her distant relations. This throws her into the path of the charming but dangerous Alec D’Urberville (Joshua Frazer), who seduces and rapes her, leaving her pregnant with his child. Some time later, Tess meets and falls in love with Angel Clare (Nat Whittingham), the kind-hearted son of a pastor – but how will he react when he discovers her secret?

Alex Harvey and Charlotte Mooney’s script is deliberately sparing, allowing Tess’s story to be told not only through text, but more importantly through movement. In a beautiful evocation of Tess’s own words about the separation of soul and body, the character is played by two performers, actor Macadie Amoroso and dancer Lila Naruse, with the former narrating the story while the latter lives it. Where words are used, they’re carefully selected to highlight the continued injustice of Tess’s plight, and her mistreatment, not only at the hands of the obviously villainous Alec but also by those who claim to love and want the best for her. It’s particularly jarring to hear victim blaming attitudes that still resonate today, over a century later – have we really progressed so little?

While the spoken elements of the show offer social commentary, the emotional heart of the production lies in the physical aspect. Performed by a talented group of dancers and acrobats, it’s a testament to how much we can say without ever opening our mouths – through our movement, body language and physical interactions. Set to Holly Khan’s soundtrack and atmospherically lit by Aideen Malone, the performers use a combination of acrobatics, aerial work and dance to create a world that doesn’t need words. From the innocence of children tumbling together as they play, to the image of a young woman being ensnared within a Cyr wheel, to the pained contortions of a man who’s just learnt a devastating secret, we feel it all.

Perhaps most memorable are the scenes that portray the characters crossing a wild Wessex landscape consisting of wooden planks, which the performers balance on, scramble up and slide down. This rustic aesthetic continues across Tina Bicât’s set, which with incredible accuracy, and the occasional touch of humour, paints a vivid picture of Tess’s rural surroundings.

Nor is this the only light-hearted touch. Perhaps surprisingly, given the relentless misery of Hardy’s story, the production gives us several moments of comedy and even joy – a reminder, perhaps, that as the story begins Tess is only sixteen years old, with the innocence and simple pleasures of a child.

In Tess, Ockham’s Razor have pulled off an impressive feat – producing an adaptation that’s completely faithful to Hardy’s original text and at the same time, something entirely different. The show’s final image leaves you feeling haunted and infuriated and really sad, but also awestruck by the talent and teamwork of an amazing cast.

Tess is at the Peacock Theatre until 3rd February, then continues on tour – visit https://ockhamsrazor.co.uk/tess for venue details.

The appeal of pantomime is a difficult thing to explain to those who haven’t grown up with it. The same few stories, featuring the same jokes, often performed by the same people, year after year – and yet, against all odds, the beloved festive tradition endures, pulling in audiences of all ages across the UK every Christmas.

In Luke Adamson’s Oh No It Isn’t! we’re taken behind the scenes of one such pantomime, in which a well-worn duo, Mr Worth (Bryan Pilkington) and Mr Chancery (Matthew Parker), return to play the Ugly Sisters in this year’s production of Cinderella. It’s the last night of the run, and it’s fair to say the two men have pretty much had enough of each other, and of their tired double act. And yet the audience – both in the story and in reality – still laugh every time they dance to Right Said Fred, make weak, innuendo-laden jokes at each other’s expense, or lead us in a traditional (and, as it turns out, eventful) group sing-along.

The pair are – at least at first – a well-oiled machine on stage, but behind the scenes things are very different. While Mr Chancery views this opportunity as very much just a job to pay the bills before moving on to something better, for Mr Worth it means a great deal more, for reasons that only become clear in the latter stages of the 65-minute show. And as that story unfolds, what started out as a laugh-a-minute comedy about two panto dames at war becomes something much deeper and more tragic.

Like their characters, Matthew Parker and Bryan Pilkington are a great double act, giving us wonderful physical comedy in the on-stage scenes, and creating a delicious tension in their interactions backstage. Luke Adamson’s efficient dialogue makes references to their shared past, but resists the temptation to get into exposition-heavy exchanges, which leaves room for plenty of nice long awkward silences as the two don a series of increasingly outlandish costumes (designed by Martin J Robinson). The play is written based largely on Adamson’s own experiences – like Mr Worth, he performed in his first pantomine at the age of nine – and there’s a distinct ring of authenticity in its portrayal of the theatre industry with all its ups and downs.

Set designer Karl Swinyard has packed every inch of the Jack’s stage with the trappings of panto – costumes, wigs, props and posters – and the result is a beautiful burst of colour; like panto itself, it’s a perfect antidote to the grey drizzle outside. Under Kate Bannister’s ever skilful direction, the action moves seamlessly from dressing room to stage, with just the pushing aside of a costume rack and a quick burst of stage lights. The result is a tightly run show that’s over before you know it, but which seems to pack a huge amount of material and detail into that short running time.

Simultaneously a celebration of all things panto and a sobering insight into the cut-throat nature of the theatre industry, Oh No It Isn’t! offers something slightly different to the usual festive offerings – and feels all the richer for it.

Oh No It Isn’t! continues at the Jack Studio Theatre until 6th January 2024.

Martha Loader’s new play tackles a devastating topic with sensitivity and at times brutal honesty. Splinter is the story of Maggie (Henri Merriam) and Jac (Sarah Livingstone and Caroline Rippin), who are the very definition of “opposites attract” – while Maggie is a free-spirited activist with a fear of commitment, Jac is responsible, organised and longing to settle down. Despite the odds, their relationship works, but when Maggie is diagnosed with early onset dementia, their bond is tested to the limit.

Loader establishes a clear divide from the start between “before” and “after”, with alternating scenes that skip backwards and forwards in time. On the one hand, we see Maggie and Jak meet, fall in love and build a life together; on the other, we see that life begin to fall apart, a little at a time. The dementia diagnosis comes quite late in the play, which actually makes the scenes that come before it even more difficult to watch, because both women know something is wrong but can’t identify the cause. There’s a particularly clever detail in the way Jak occasionally seems to say the wrong word; just like Maggie, at first we brush it off as a slip of the tongue or assume we misheard, and it’s only as these become more common that we too start to realise something else might be going on.

There’s heartbreaking significance, too, in the decision to have Jak played by two different actors, while Maggie is played throughout by the same person. That significance doesn’t become completely clear until later on in the play, and the moment of realisation arrives in a dramatic scene that marks a clear turning point for both characters. Sarah Livingstone and Caroline Rippin mirror each other well in their mannerisms and interactions with Maggie, but at the same time they’re also clearly unique versions of Jak, demonstrating how a diagnosis like this isn’t only life-changing for the person who receives it, but also has a profound impact on those around them. Henri Merriam is on stage throughout and is mesmerising as Maggie in both eras; “before” Maggie is full of an infectious energy, passion and mischief, which we see drain away over the course of the play, leaving “after” Maggie lost and bewildered

Becca Gibbs has created a beautifully versatile set, featuring a window, bookcase and door, which are moved about after each scene to set up new locations. By keeping Maggie on stage during these scene changes, director Amy Wyllie adds an element of disorientation to the constant movement – but always brings us back to the central motif of Jak, endlessly sticking post-it notes to the bookcase in a futile attempt to help Maggie hold on to details of their life together.

Dementia is a cruel disease, and Splinter demonstrates very well the damage it can cause, by taking us on a journey with this perfectly imperfect couple. Apart from one incident late on in the play that comes out of nowhere and feels like it deserves more time (largely because it has the potential to change how we feel about one of the characters), this is a well crafted and powerfully performed story that really draws us in, to ensure that we feel the full impact of the events that follow. The nature of the condition means it’s not a spoiler to say this story was never going to have a happy ending, but the conclusion we get is sensitively handled and, in a way, feels as optimistic as it’s possible for it to be.

Splinter is at the Jack Studio Theatre until 2nd December.

One of the best things about Chickenshed’s annual Christmas show is that it somehow manages to be both reassuringly familiar and at the same time, full of creativity and surprises. This year, their 21st century take on Pinocchio, The Toymaker’s Child, takes us on an epic adventure with Katy (at our performance, Beatrice Afhim) and PIN:0Cch10 (Courtney Dayes), a 3D printed teen – or “printeen” – created by Katy’s father (Gabriel Palmer) and brought to life using a microchip he found discarded in a bin. It’s not long before the two find themselves on the run and at the mercy of unscrupulous villains Mr Cunning (Demar Lambert) and Kat (Cara McInanny). Can they escape and find their way home? And will PIN:0Cch10 ever get to experience a feeling?

Written by Dave Carey and directed by Michael Bossisse, Bethany Hamlin, Cara McInanny and Jonny Morton, the show tackles very current issues like the rise (and risks) of AI, and the polarising effects of the media. But at its heart, it’s a story about friendship and humanity, which is, after all, what Chickenshed is all about. With a cast of 600 split across 4 rotating groups, it’s a perfect showcase for inclusivity, with young people of different abilities and backgrounds coming together to create something beautiful. The sign language, provided by eight “augmentors” dressed as toys, is seamlessly integrated and adds another level of inclusivity to this wonderful production.

As with most Chickenshed Christmas shows, the production features several musical numbers, more than one of which proves to be a bit of an ear worm (I’m still singing “Follow Me”, which closes Act 1, two days later) and which range from solos to big group numbers that give multiple cast members a moment to shine, and impress with their slick choreography. Even though it happens every year, the production’s closing scene, which sees the entire cast take to the stage for a final performance, never fails to make an impact.

In addition to the ensemble set pieces, the show also boasts some fantastic solo performances. Courtney Dayes is perfectly robotic as the intelligent but emotionless PIN:0Cch10, contrasting nicely with Beatrice Afhim’s passionate and often exasperated Katy. Demar Lambert and Cara McInanny bring a distinct Thénardier vibe to their wickedly comic portrayal of Mr Cunning and Kat, and Ashley Driver is equally hilarious as Mike the news anchor man, sporting an array of wigs and introducing a host of irrelevant guests. Meanwhile Bethany Hamlin shines as the Accidental Blue Fairy – a singing waitress longing for her big break, who helps the two girls in more than one hour of need.

Funny, heartfelt and clever, The Toymaker’s Child is another great Christmas show from Chickenshed. But feelings aside (sorry PIN:0Cch10), it’s also technically an incredible achievement; managing such a large cast, making it so easily accessible, and still telling a great story is something we shouldn’t take for granted. As Chickenshed heads into its 50th anniversary year, we can only hope that there are many more shows like this in its future.

The Toymaker’s Child continues at Chickenshed until 13th January.