Review: The Addams Family at the Orchard Theatre

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Entering the final week on its UK tour, comedy musical The Addams Family opened – on Halloween, appropriately enough – to a sell-out Dartford crowd eager for the latest instalment from the kookiest, spookiest family around. And though the plot could use a bit more energy, a great cast, upbeat score and slick production ensure that audiences are guaranteed a devilishly fun evening.


In this new story, Wednesday Addams is all grown up and has fallen hard – and slightly implausibly – for jock Lucas Beineke. She confesses to her father Gomez, but begs him to keep the secret from wife Morticia until after a planned dinner that night with Lucas and his parents. She also asks for “one normal night” – so you can guess what happens next. Meanwhile, Uncle Fester has summoned lots of dead relatives and is refusing to let them leave until they help true love win the day, while in a bizarre but oddly endearing subplot, he’s caught up in a complicated love story of his own.

Cameron Blakely is brilliant as Gomez, the irresistible life and soul of the Addams family party, desperately trying to keep everyone happy as he’s pulled back and forth between the women in his life. Alongside him, Samantha Womack’s Morticia captures perfectly her character’s effortless elegance and dark wit, but also shows her vulnerable side. Their part of the story is a bit thin (man is persuaded to keep secret from wife for a couple of hours to keep daughter happy; wife totally overreacts) but it does set the scene for some enjoyable verbal sparring and several good jokes about Paris sewers.

The always impressive Carrie Hope Fletcher carries the main plot – and some of the biggest musical numbers – as Wednesday, who’s discovering her softer side and isn’t totally happy about it. Scott Paige stepped in seamlessly last night for Les Dennis as the odd but loveable Fester, and Dickon Gough has a hilarious surprise or two up his sleeve as the family butler, Lurch.


The chorus of dead ancestors – who include a matador, a geisha and a ballerina – in the end play absolutely no part in helping true love win (though of course it does – spoiler alert). But they’re good fun and a credit to both the wardrobe department and choreographer Alistair David; the energetic Thriller-esque opening number is particularly entertaining. In fact the whole show is a visual treat – designer Diego Pitarch has stayed completely faithful to the characters, and you don’t need to be an expert on the original to know exactly who you’re looking at.

Andrew Lippa’s music on the other hand is all new for the stage (with one distinctive and familiar exception) and, in contrast to its often darkly humorous lyrics, the score is consistently cheery and more than a little catchy; I’ve been humming Death is Just Around the Corner all day…

It’s no surprise that the script’s full of the dark humour you’d expect from the Addams clan. But the show is also a great reminder that being “normal” (whatever that is) doesn’t necessarily equate to happiness; ultimately, it’s a lot more satisfying to be true to yourself. Gomez, Morticia and co may be a bit kooky, but they can still teach the Beinekes – and the audience – a thing or two about family. That said, the story does leave a bit to be desired; after going into the interval on a surprise twist, the second act falls rather flat, and is basically just a series of different couples arguing and then making up.

That small disappointment aside, the show is a fun and suitably spooky night out for Halloween week, whether you’re meeting the Addams Family for the first time or you’re old friends. Following a successful UK tour, the show comes to an end on Saturday, so grab a ticket while you can. After all, death is just around the corner…

The Addams Family is at the Orchard Theatre until 4th November.

Review: Scratch the Surface: The Female Playwright at The Bread and Roses Theatre

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The third Scratch the Surface event from Instinct Theatre produced a collection of five very different pieces, with one thing in common: they were all created by women. Covering a range of themes from mental illness to manspreading, the evening brought together an enjoyable and innovative showcase of new writing talent.

Written and performed by Amelia Sweetland, Sharp Edges (directed by Nathan Theys) got the ball rolling with a portrayal of anxiety that’s all too recognisable. Sophie’s having a party, even though she doesn’t really want to – but she’s invited her boss and can’t back down now, despite being almost paralysed by anxiety. And the only person she can talk to about it all… is herself. Gentle humour and extreme Britishness collide with the desperate poignancy of a young woman who knows her irrational fears and lifelong need for perfection are holding her back, but is powerless to get past them.

The second piece, #iAmResilient by Lucrezia Pollice, was easily the most ambitious, combining theatre with audiovisual content to paint a picture of millennial life. Using a screen to show us text, Tinder and Facebook conversations is an inspired touch, given that most of us probably have more interactions on screen than in person these days. That said, future performances could definitely benefit from a bigger screen, to allow everyone to see what’s happening. The piece covers several themes but its main focus falls on Maria, and an honest exploration of the impact of her mental health issues on her relationship with her housemates. #iAmResilient has some interesting ideas, but definitely feels like a snippet of a longer piece, so it will be interesting to see how it develops from here.

Maternity by Stephanie Silver is a comedy, but even this very funny piece has a sting in the tail. Laura’s about to leave work to have a baby, but is anxious that she won’t make a good mum. Even so, her well-intentioned friend Kate is determined to give her a good send-off, whether she wants one or not. In a clever twist, the play sets up the two characters then, without warning, turns our opinions of them on their head. We’re still laughing, but now it’s tinged with a hint of sadness on one hand, and shock on the other. Even so, Laura’s honesty about her fears – however exaggerated in this case – is actually quite refreshing in a world that constantly sells the idea all women are natural mothers.

Saturday Night (directed by Laura Clifford), one of six monologues from Francesca Mepham’s collection No One Wants a Pretty Girl, finds Amber sitting alone at home watching Doctor Who. She’s just split up from her boyfriend (again) and can’t seem to connect with her friends, who just want to go out every weekend rather than catch up with her. A short but heartfelt monologue about loneliness and not quite fitting in, this is a piece of writing that reaches out to anyone who’s ever found themselves in Amber’s shoes – getting pulled back into an unhealthy relationship just for the sake of feeling loved.

And finally, the evening ended on a raucous note with Manspreading by Laura Hall (directed by Niamh Handley-Vaughan), in which the drunken conversation of three young women on a night out turns to the antisocial habit that is manspreading. More specifically, they’re outraged by the fact that it should be the exclusive domain of men – like Yorkie bars all over again, as one of them points out. It’s all very lighthearted and over-the-top, but the play does raise some interesting discussion points about gender roles and differing social interpretations of male and female body language, which seem particularly relevant in light of recent media events.

It’s always interesting to see new writing at such an early stage in its development, and on this occasion particularly exciting to see it all coming from female playwrights. Once again, Instinct Theatre have put together an  evening that provided its audience with plenty of food for thought, but also five talented writers to keep our eye on in the future.

For future Scratch the Surface events, follow @InstinctTheatre on Twitter.


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Review: Happy yet? at the Courtyard Theatre

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“Why can’t you just be happy?” asks one of the characters in Katie Berglöf’s debut play, Happy yet? To people who’ve never lived with depression or anxiety, they can be difficult concepts to understand – particularly, perhaps, in Sweden, which is famous for being one of the happiest countries in the world.

Enter Torsten Sandqvist. He’s nearly 40, unemployed, and living in his brother and sister-in-law’s attic room in Stockholm. For as long as anyone can remember he’s been writing a play, but between staying in bed until 3pm and going out with a new girl each night, he’s not getting much work done. As his family grow ever more frustrated, the only person Torsten can really talk to is his young niece, Nina – but she never goes to school, and nobody else seems aware of her presence…

Inspired by the traumatic personal experience of losing her uncle to suicide, Katie Berglöf has written an enlightening, often troubling but just as often unexpectedly humorous depiction of what depression looks and feels like from both sides of the story. The most important lesson we learn is that depression doesn’t necessarily mean you’re miserable all the time. On a good day, Torsten is hilarious, wildly optimistic and everyone’s best friend (at one point, he convinces a police officer who’s come to arrest his brother to go drinking with him instead). Unfortunately he also can’t stop lying to make himself look good, and after one crazy scheme too many, it’s no surprise his brother’s patience is starting to wear a little thin.

A charismatic David Beatty does a great job of navigating Torsten’s highs and lows, in a world that tries its best but never quite gets to grips with what it’s like to be him. This world is represented by Piers Hunt, Molly Merwin and Lucinda Turner as his brother, sister-in-law and girlfriend, who clearly love him and want to help but have no idea how. The play aims to explore the impact of mental health issues not only on the individual but also on those closest to them, and is careful to make clear that Torsten’s family are suffering too. In fact, the only entirely unsympathetic character in the play is the mental health professional who aggressively questions Torsten about his problems, but offers no answers – unless you also count his unseen parents and other siblings, who we learn rejected him long ago for what they saw as his weakness.

It’s a shame that the play’s ending leaves a few too many unanswered questions – particularly surrounding the ever-present Nina, played by Minnie Murphy. It’s obvious from the start that there’s more to their relationship than meets the eye, but the (almost) complete lack of clues as to how or why she became Torsten’s confidant is a bit frustrating, and I found myself waiting for a revelation that never came.

Even so, the play’s message and intention come through loud and clear. It’s so important to keep talking about mental health, and Happy yet? plays its part by offering a very personal insight into one family’s struggle to find an answer to an unanswerable question. In particular, the play challenges the misconception that happiness is something which can be turned on or off at will, and encourages understanding instead of judgment. And if it feels a little unfinished, that’s okay – this is, after all, a conversation that’s far from over.


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Review: A Nazi Comparison at Waterloo East Theatre

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Based on Schlageter by Hanns Johst – Hitler’s favourite playwright – Craft Theatre’s A Nazi Comparison makes some solid points and clearly has good intentions. I really wanted to like it, but an unnecessary excess of drama makes it difficult to see past the tears and shouting to get to the message behind.

Clare is a PR student at UCL preparing for a big presentation, but after one of her lecturers lends her a copy of Schlageter and she falls for a guy at a Grenfell protest, she starts looking into the unnerving similarities between Nazi propaganda and the rhetoric of today’s press. It doesn’t take long for her to realise that if you replaced “Jews” with “Muslims” in the speeches, it sounds very much like something Donald Trump would say. In the end, unable to stomach the idea of joining a PR machine that knowingly misleads the public, she withdraws from her degree course in sensational fashion.

So far, so good. After we’re treated to a short video presentation about the unfair representation of Jeremy Corbyn by the British media, Louise Goodfield delivers Clare’s fateful presentation with genuine passion – and even if it does start to feel a bit like we’ve wandered into a political rally rather than a play, you can’t help but admire her for having the courage of her convictions and standing up for what she believes is right. Unfortunately, her mum (Helen Foster) doesn’t even attempt to feel the same way, and it’s not long before the two are embroiled in a screaming row – not their first or last of the evening – about all the ways she’s endangered her future. Nor is her mum the only one who can’t understand her decision, and soon Clare finds herself living in a squat with Craig (Craig Edgely), the guy from the Grenfell protest. This goes well for a while – the exact timeframe of the play is unclear – until Craig decides group leader Lucas (Lucas John Mahoney) and his strategy of peaceful protest aren’t working for him any more. Cue more shouting and a dramatic off-stage twist, followed by an even more dramatic on-stage finale.

All this drama starts to get in the way more and more as the play enters its second hour. Nobody seems capable of having a rational discussion; every conversation quickly turns into an argument, with people shouting over each other, sobbing, wailing and generally being far more melodramatic than seems necessary. By the end, it’s all unfortunately a bit of a mess, and not at all clear any more what point is being made, who we’re supposed to be supporting or why.

All that said, there are some very touching scenes between Clare and her dad (Thomas Thoroe), who unlike his ex-wife at least tries to understand where his daughter’s coming from. The physical ensemble work is very slick, particularly in the montage sequence (a bizarrely timed comic interlude) and after each scene, when the cast somersault across the stage like ninjas to get in position for the next. And there’s no faulting the conviction of the company; I would just have liked a bit less raw emotion and a bit more rational debate to help me understand what, beyond the obvious Nazi comparison, I was meant to be taking away.


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Review: Insignificance at the Arcola Theatre

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Imagine for a moment what would happen if Albert Einstein met Marilyn Monroe. And then imagine their spirited discussion about the theory of relativity being interrupted by first Joe DiMaggio, who hasn’t seen his wife for two weeks and wants her to come home, and then Senator Joseph McCarthy, who’s trying to drag Einstein to an un-American Activities Committee hearing.

Having trouble? Well then get yourself along to the Arcola, where Terry Johnson’s Insignificance imagines it for you. Directed by David Mercatali, the result is an enjoyably (and perhaps predictably) bizarre encounter that begins as a comedy but ends up in significantly darker territory. Written in 1982, it’s a play that seems to be about a lot of things, much of which a 21st century audience can still relate to – among them the downsides of fame, the threat of nuclear war and the stereotyping of women.

Photo credit: Alex Brenner

Simon Rouse’s Professor and Alice Bailey Johnson’s Actress (none of the characters are referred to by their names, although the script, costumes and performances leave us in no doubt who we’re looking at) find a surprising connection when she bursts into his Manhattan hotel room eager to meet him and prove she understands the theory of relativity. As someone whose scientific knowledge is limited to say the least, I don’t mind admitting I got totally lost during her increasingly enthusiastic recital – not helped by the fact it’s delivered at the speed of light – but that doesn’t prevent it being the defining moment of the play. You can’t help but cheer a little bit to see Marilyn shrug off her dumb blonde persona and take on one of the brainiest men on the planet… and then again when she takes down the infinitely easier target that is her abrasive, gum-popping husband with a series of withering retorts.

At the root of this triumphant moment, though, is a deep sadness that only grows as the play goes on. The Actress desperately wants to be taken seriously, but is constantly thwarted by the image she’s created for herself. Similarly, the mild-mannered Professor just wants to sit and quietly work out the shape of space, but is pursued by the expectations of others, and the use to which his name and work could be put, should he allow them to be. Each has grown used to the world knowing them only by their public persona, which is why this odd pair make a strange kind of sense – certainly more so than the Actress and the Ball Player, who don’t seem to get each other at all. Joe DiMaggio, played with swagger and just a hint of appealing vulnerability by Oliver Hembrough, is fine with people seeing him exactly as he is, just as long as they still see him… which is probably why the suggestion that he’s merely a creation dreamed up by Tom Mannion’s malicious Senator riles him so badly.

Photo credit: Alex Brenner

Though rooted in troubling subject matter, Johnson’s script is full of witty one-liners, from inside jokes about Schrödinger’s cat and Arthur Miller to more universal gags, most at the expense of the less intellectually blessed characters. In between the four of them talk at length about various topics, from the scientific to the political to the domestic, in a production that tails off to a vaguely unsatisfactory conclusion – so much so that we end up wondering if the bizarre events of the night happened at all.

There’s a lot to enjoy in Insignificance, not least the strong performances from four actors seemingly unfazed by the pressure of playing real – and in at least two cases, iconic – historical figures. The Professor and the Actress might not succeed in teaching us much science, but their imagined encounter does pose some interesting questions about the self-defeating nature of celebrity. It’s a bit of a slow burner on the night, but this is the kind of play that stays in your mind, throwing up more ideas and discussions the longer you think about it. Well worth a visit, if only for the thrill of witnessing such an unlikely meeting of minds.


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