Review: La Ronde at The Bunker Theatre

Max Gill’s adaptation of La Ronde by Arthur Schnitzler launches the second season at The Bunker, and it’s already causing quite a stir. Partly this is down to the star cast, but it’s fair to say the major draw of this production is its unique and fascinating format.

Four actors – Lauren Samuels, Amanda Wilkin, Alex Vlahos and Leemore Marrett Jr – play between them ten gender-neutral characters. There are ten scenes, each featuring two of the actors. But who appears in which scene is entirely down to fate, and decided by the slow, deadly spin of a roulette wheel. Altogether, there are over 3,000 possible different versions of the show, so it’s no surprise that it cries out for multiple viewings. Fortunately, it’s also entertaining enough to ensure that wouldn’t be a chore.

Photo credit: Ray Burmiston
Photo credit: Ray Burmiston
The use of a roulette wheel is appropriate, because La Ronde is a risky enterprise in more ways than one. Firstly, there’s the danger that one of the actors might find themselves repeatedly out of the loop; I saw very little of Amanda Wilkin until the comparatively short final two scenes, which she appeared in by default. (On the other hand, the mounting suspense of waiting to see if she would finally get her moment meant we never got bored of watching the wheel spin every few minutes.)

The format is also incredibly demanding for the actors, who have to learn every part and really think on their feet – but this outstanding cast have more than risen to the challenge. Every individual performance is confident and believable, as are the relationships between the different pairings, regardless of gender combination.

The overarching theme of the play is sex, and there’s some form of sexual encounter in every scene, whether consummated or not (which prompts the interesting question, what even counts as a sexual encounter; where do we draw the line?). Some are illicit, many unsatisfying, others quite poignant… And all of them are unseen, because the stage is plunged into darkness at the critical moment – an interesting choice that suggests the deed itself may not be quite as critical as what leads up to it, or what happens afterwards.

The script is necessarily gender-neutral, which creates a few awkward moments and rather excessive use of the characters’ (unisex) names, but on the whole flows more naturally than I expected. The different combinations of male and female force us to examine our own expectations about gender roles within sexual relationships and society as a whole. Questions of power, vulnerability, even career stereotypes (why should a female bus driver or a male cleaner be any more unusual than the opposite?) are all eloquently addressed, without labouring the point; the scenarios are unfolded before us and we’re left to consider our own response.

Photo credit: Ray Burmiston
Photo credit: Ray Burmiston
The modern setting and individual scenes are the work of writer/director Max Gill, inspired by stories he collected over several months from Londoners – snippets of which we hear during the transitions between scenes. But the structure of the play comes from Schnitzler, and is just as enthralling. Each character appears in only two consecutive scenes, with the first actor selected by the wheel returning at the play’s conclusion to close the circle. So within this big loop are lots of little ones, all linked both directly to their neighbours, and also indirectly, with events and characters referenced from earlier scenes. (Weirdly, the pattern reminded me a bit of that magic roundabout in Hemel Hempstead – which is not something I ever thought I’d write in a theatre review, and is honestly a lot more flattering than it sounds.)

The biggest disappointment of La Ronde, for me, is that I probably won’t have time to see it again and compare last night’s version with another – and so in a way, I feel like I can only half appreciate how clever the show is. But that’s really a compliment; this is an original and endlessly fascinating idea, brilliantly executed by both cast and creatives. It’s not without its risks… but I’d say this particular spin of the wheel is a winner.

Additional note on 7th March:

As it happens, I did get a chance to see La Ronde again, a few days ago, and it was just as interesting as I suspected it would be. With the exception of one scene, every pairing was different to the last time, and in one case involved the same people but in opposite roles. And though the script was familiar, the different combinations – not only of gender but of personality and style, too – made it into a brand new story. Some scenes were funnier than before; others much more emotional. Some characters were more likeable; others harder to relate to. And though the sexual encounters were the same in location and circumstance, the responses to them were different – not because, for instance, it was between a man and a woman instead of two men, but because it was between two unique human beings.

There’s something slightly addictive about La Ronde; having been twice I now want to go again (and again). It’s a show of – almost – infinite possibilities, and one that you sense will remain constantly fresh and exciting, for audience and actors alike.


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Review: The Full Monty at the Orchard Theatre

Incredibly, this year it’s two decades since The Full Monty first hit the big screen. Now it’s arrived on stage, and is being greeted with all the hysterical screaming you might expect. But Bums of Steel and dodgy thongs aside, the adapted stage version also retains all the heart and humour of the classic British movie, and the final reveal (so to speak) is well worth the wait.

Set in Sheffield in the 80s, this is the story of Gaz, Dave and their mates, who find themselves out of work and down on their luck – until the Chippendales come to town, and give Gaz a brainwave… With all the Dad dancing, classic tunes and inappropriate behaviour you could wish for, the play, like the movie before it, also brings its brusque Northern sense of humour to some pretty weighty issues including politics, mental health, family, body image and sexuality.

Photo credit: Matt Crockett
Photo credit: Matt Crockett

Now, with all due respect to Robert Carlyle et al, the cast for the stage version of The Full Monty is considerably better looking than I remember from the movie. But former soap hunks Gary Lucy, Chris Fountain and Anthony Lewis aren’t just here for eye candy, (though they certainly tick that particular box) and deliver some sensitive performances, along with their fellow troupe members Andrew Dunn, Louis Emerick and Kai Owen. In fact in amongst the mayhem there are some really touching scenes, particularly between Gaz (Gary Lucy) and his son Nathan (Reiss Ward), and between the depressed Lomper (Anthony Lewis) and happy-go-lucky Guy (Chris Fountain). Despite everything they’re going through, what makes this story so enjoyable is the relationships between the characters, and this cast have great chemistry throughout. Just one minor gripe: it might have been the angle or the accents, but I found it sometimes quite hard to catch all the dialogue, and judging by the lively audience response, missed a few of the best lines.

Photo credit: Matt Crockett
Photo credit: Matt Crockett

Adapted by original screenwriter Simon Beaufoy, the show includes all the classic scenes (queue dancing, anyone?), which adapt really well for the stage and help to whip the audience up into a frenzy of expectation. And we’re still able to travel all over Sheffield thanks to Robert Jones’ multi-functional set, which with a quick change of props, lighting and backdrop becomes derelict factory, working men’s club, job centre and more.

The Full Monty is a fun night out, whether you’ve seen the movie before or you’re a first-timer. Expect plenty of bawdy humour alongside some more introspective moments, and of course the explosive finale, which is everything we wanted it to be. This is hen party theatre at its finest – but there’s substance as well as style here, and the resulting show is satisfying in more ways than one.

The Full Monty is at the Orchard Theatre until 18th February.

Review: Three Unrelated Short Plays at Theatre N16

Three Unrelated Short Plays is the debut production from Blank Tin Productions, and does exactly what it says on the… er, tin: three 20-minute plays, none of which bears any relation to the others – or indeed to reality as we know it. The press release promises weird and unexpected, and that’s exactly what we get.

In The Stuttgart Syndrome, John (James Messer) wakes up tied to a chair in a basement, next to Mickey (Dan Thorn), who seems worryingly chilled about the whole situation – possibly because his grandfather was an escapologist, or maybe just because he doesn’t actually know what kidnapping means. One Scotch sees friends Tony, Danny and Jack (James McClelland, Abe Buckoke and Will Jeffs) play a drinking game that will supposedly allow them to meet God, but it turns out (s)he isn’t quite what they were expecting… and that’s not the only surprise of the night. And in Who the Fuck is Dr Deathzo? mild-mannered Kevin (Jimmy Roye Dunne) learns that he’s got an evil alter-ego who only comes out on Saturday nights – and as if that’s not bad enough, now superhero Assorted Props Girl (Elle Banstead-Salim) and her sidekick Tape Boy are out to vanquish him.

three-unrelated-short-plays-5
Photo credit: Oliver Malam
So. You get the idea. Nothing here makes any sense, but then it’s not really supposed to. Writer James Messer has let his imagination run off pretty much wherever it wants to go, resulting in a show that’s entirely bonkers and very very silly – but hey, who doesn’t enjoy a bit of silliness every now and then?

Each play has a different director (Will Jeffs, Oliver Malam and James Messer each taking a turn) and cast to keep things fresh, and as promised in the title each is a completely separate, self-contained story. Personally, I found the middle piece, One Scotch, to be the strongest, possibly because despite being quite as mad as the others, the plot felt just a touch more coherent, and I loved the twist in the tale. But there’s something here for everyone (unless you’re not a fan of random), and it’s likely everyone will have their own favourite, for different reasons.

The show has a charming, homemade feel, with frequent references to the limitations imposed by a fringe theatre budget. And far from making excuses, it revels in its own chaos; the transitions between plays are part of the fun, with cardboard signs imploring us to look at the guy juggling, or dancing, rather than the frantic scene changing going on behind him.

three-unrelated-short-plays-4
Photo credit: Oliver Malam
The cast display a similar exuberance, throwing themselves into their assorted roles with an enthusiasm that borders at times on the hyperactive. Most appear in more than one play, with Blank Tin co-founder Elle Banstead-Salim popping up in all three as a selection of increasingly feisty women; as the only female cast member it’s down to her to bring all the girl power, and she doesn’t hesitate to accept the challenge.

As a reviewer, I often feel I have to find the meaning in every play I see, so it’s a rare pleasure to see a show that isn’t trying to tell us anything. Blank Tin just want to have a good time, and to make sure the audience have fun too. And in that they definitely succeed. It’s a surreal night out, don’t get me wrong – but it’s also a thoroughly entertaining escape from reality, and that’s something we could all do with these days.


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Review: Crime and Punishment at Jack Studio Theatre

In the centenary year of the Russian Revolution, Arrows & Traps have got in early with their production of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. But put aside any off-putting thoughts of epic 600-page novels; this short, sharp adaptation by Marilyn Campbell and Curt Columbus cuts straight to the heart of the story and is all over in a gripping hour and a half.

Focusing less on either the crime or the punishment, instead this adaptation gives us a disturbing insight into the mind of a murderer during the days between the two. By the time the play begins, the murder – of an elderly pawnbroker and her sister – has already been committed, and Raskolnikov (Christopher Tester) finds himself drawn into a cat and mouse game of psychological warfare with police inspector Porfiry (Stephen MacNeice), who’s convinced of his guilt. In desperation Raskolnikov turns to Sonia (Christina Baston), a virtuous young woman forced into prostitution to save her family, who offers his only chance of redemption.

Photo credit: Davor Tovarlaza @ The Ocular Creative
Photo credit: Davor Tovarlaza @ The Ocular Creative

Flashbacks give the audience an opportunity to piece together the events that preceded the murder, as well as the crime itself – but also demonstrate the fractured state of mind of the killer, who himself looks back in an attempt to justify his actions. In the present, Raskolnikov explains to Porfiry that he believes some crimes – including this one – are necessary for the greater good. This is the debate at the heart of Dostoyevsky’s novel, and Campbell and Columbus’ adaptation gets straight down to it, mercilessly axeing several additional characters and plotlines, without losing any of the essence of what the story’s all about.

Director Ross McGregor has assembled a brilliant new cast for this production. Stephen MacNeice is an affable Porfiry, a self-confessed “freeform” investigator whose complex relationship with the suspected murderer begins to feel more like that of father and son than detective and criminal. As Sonia, Christina Baston has a physical fragility that contrasts with the spiritual and moral strength that sustain her – before transforming in flashbacks into the hunched, sneering old pawnbroker who’s about to meet a messy end. But this is ultimately Raskolnikov’s story, and Christopher Tester is captivating as the tormented killer. Despite being a violent criminal driven by his own arrogance, he’s also charming, articulate and capable of great kindness… and so like the biblical Lazarus who’s referenced throughout the play, we desperately want to believe he has the potential for salvation.

Anyone who’s seen Arrows & Traps in action before knows that they have a signature style – but they’re also not afraid to take a risk and step into new territory. Crime and Punishment is the company’s 10th production, and in a lot of ways is quite different to anything they’ve done before, with a cast of just three actors and a running time of only 90 minutes. Yet this is also recognisably an Arrows production, not just in its strong acting performances, but in the use of contemporary music, atmospheric lighting (courtesy of Karl Swinyard) and a dreamlike quality, particularly in movement director Will Pinchin’s exquisite slow-motion murder scene. (I never thought I’d be able to describe watching two old ladies get bludgeoned with an axe as beautiful, but there we go.)

Photo credit: Davor Tovarlaza @ The Ocular Creative
Photo credit: Davor Tovarlaza @ The Ocular Creative

So what we really get with this production is a super-concentrated Arrows experience, stripped back to basics but bearing all the hallmarks of a company and director who know exactly what they’re doing. An intense psychological drama, the play has the entire audience holding our breath throughout, and asks some very real, and relevant, questions about the nature of crime and whether there’s actually any such thing as good and evil.

Think you know Crime and Punishment? Think again.


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Review: Frankenstein at Greenwich Theatre

200 years after Mary Shelley wrote her classic gothic novel, Frankenstein returns to the stage in the skilled hands of Blackeyed Theatre. Adapted by John Ginman, this concise, two-hour retelling is suitably chilling and atmospheric while remaining family friendly, and is executed to perfection by a multi-talented cast of five… or should that be six?

Keeping true to the “story within a story within a story” format of Shelley’s novel, Eliot Giuralarocca’s production is set on the ship of Robert Walton, an explorer to the North Pole, who rescues the exhausted Victor Frankenstein from the ice. Walton becomes fascinated by the mysterious stranger’s story of how, driven by crazed ambition, he built and gave life to a Creature, only to reject it and in doing so, drive it into a destructive cycle of loneliness and despair that ended up costing him everything.

Photo credit: Alex Harvey-Brown
Photo credit: Alex Harvey-Brown

The story, spanning several years, moves quickly – from Geneva to Ingolstadt to London to Scotland, and far beyond – and the cast do likewise. While Ben Warwick is on stage throughout as the wild-eyed, fast-talking, increasingly dishevelled Frankenstein, his fellow cast members are scarcely less busy. Each takes on multiple roles within the story, while still finding time to pop round the back of the stage and bring Ron McAllister’s dramatic soundtrack to life on timpani, cymbals and a variety of other ingenious, home-made instruments.

Act 1 is largely there to set up the story, and is quite science-heavy as Frankenstein describes his studies and his urgent desire to create life. But it’s in Act 2 that the production becomes truly electrifying, with the first real appearance of Yvonne Stone’s life-size Bunraku style puppet. Built from rope and cloth, with blank, staring eyes, the Creature is manipulated so skilfully by the cast, and voiced so perfectly by Louis Labovitch, that it’s genuinely possible to forget the actors are there at all, and to think of Frankenstein’s creation as entirely separate from the other characters they play: kind, beautiful Elizabeth (Lara Cowin), Victor’s supportive friend Henry (Max Gallagher), Walton, the explorer hanging on his every word, but not necessarily for the right reasons (Ashley Sean-Cook), and a multitude of cameo appearances as other minor characters. This is a production that’s about so much more than the impressive individual performances; it’s a seamless ensemble effort that requires everyone to be in exactly the right place at the right time.

Photo credit: Alex Harvey-Brown
Photo credit: Alex Harvey-Brown

Victoria Spearing’s set takes inspiration from the ship on which the story begins and ends, and as Frankenstein narrates his tale, it springs to life from the materials around him. So the sail becomes a river; the Creature is formed from bundles and sacks of old rope and rags; more ropes are transformed into the electric wires that finally give it life. It’s testament both to the actors’ performance and the simple, descriptive style of John Ginman’s script, that without ever leaving the ship’s deck, we find ourselves transported to workshops, stormy mountaintops, courtrooms and even looking out over the quiet beauty of Lake Geneva.

I remember being a bit surprised the first time I read Frankenstein, because it felt a bit tame, not the out-and-out horror I’d been expecting. Similarly, Blackeyed Theatre’s excellent production doesn’t set out to shock us, but instead to send us home with a creeping unease as we contemplate the dangerous implications of arrogant human ambition. Though there’s certainly an element of suspense, the Creature’s crimes (most of which we don’t even see committed) provoke more sadness than fear, while he himself is so human that it’s harder to shrug his deeds off as merely the work of the supernatural – and so ironically it’s humanity, rather than monstrosity, that’s most likely to keep us awake at night.


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