Theatre Things

Review: Oh What A Lovely War at Oldham Coliseum

Published on September 13, 2017 by LizLeave a comment

Guest review by Aleks Anders

Starting in 2014, and no doubt continuing right up until the end of 2018, Britain has been commemorating the centenary of World War 1. The Great War, The War To End All Wars. I have seen some extremely moving tributes both theatrical and musical, and now The Coliseum Theatre in Oldham opens its Autumn season with something which is a little of both, Oh What A Lovely War. A pioneering and daring work in its time, Joan Littlewood and her Theatre Workshop in London’s Stratford East came up with a dark satire which parodies the war and those in charge of it, commenting on its futility and political motivations through sharp humour and song.

If this doesn’t sound too hard to imagine and a little lame, then remember this was premiered in 1963 when the constraints of theatre were much more rigid than today, and also that at that time, it was less than 20 years since the end of World War 2, with both The Cold War and The Vietnam War still continuing.

Littlewood uses the songs of the period to great effect, interspersing them throughout with little vignettes as the cast of ten dressed in costumes reminiscent of the old Music Hall Pierrettes take on multifarious characters ranging from civilian, military and political persons from Britain, France, Germany, Belgium, Russian etc, presenting “the ever popular, ‘War Games'”.

To aid us all in this, since this is a history lesson on four years of fighting on a scale never before encountered, there is a large screen in the centre of the stage upon which helpful photographs, documents, maps and information – all historically accurate – are displayed. In fact, Foxton has designed a simple and yet superb set. A circular ‘stage’ around which the performers and their props and instruments wait in Brechtian fashion, with a false gallery and prosc arch, bunting, the royal Coat Of Arms, and footlights. Just what one would have expected to find at the theatre at the end of a pier in those days.

There are ten performers in all; but don’t ask me to tell you how many characters they play between them! However, their character changes are swift and clever, with the simple addition of a hat or scarf, or perhaps even just an umbrella. They are also multi-talented as indeed they all must also sing, dance and play at least one musical instrument, as they were also the show’s band, “The Merry Roosters”. And so, piano, bass, clarinet, trombone, drum kit, and goodness knows what else were played by those members not actually involved in the acting of each scenelet.

I must say right now that under normal circumstances I am absolutely no fan of actor-musicians; and I still think I would have enjoyed the show more had they been separate, but it certainly didn’t bother me anywhere near as much as I thought it would, and for a show of this particular style, and the lovely Brechtian directing by the Coliseum’s Artistic Director Kevin Shaw, it was apt and fitted well. I do feel though that some of the songs would have benefited from a fuller sound vocally; although the harmonies were lovely, they were a little sparse.

In fact Shaw has brought out the best from both his cast and the show in this. It could do with being a little pacier; I felt especially the first half dragged ever so slightly (perhaps because the audience didn’t really “get it”) but hopefully given a few more runs for it to “bed-in” the pace will naturally quicken anyway. Beverley Norris-Edmunds should also be commended here too for her lovely choreography. Stylistically perfect and worked excellently.

It is almost impossible to single out certain cast members from others in a show such as this, a true ensemble piece in every regard, but I cannot leave this review without mentioning them, as they are all excellent. They are Isobel Bates, Matt Connor, Richard J. Fletcher, Jeffrey Harmer, Barbara Hockaday, Anthony Hunt, Thom Petty, Lauryn Redding, Reece Richardson, and David Westbrook. My favourite number from the evening though simply has to be the lovely acapella rendering of When This Lousy War Is Over.

Oh What A Lovely War may not prove to be everyone’s cup of tea (but I guess the same can be said of any piece of theatre); however, I do believe that the Coliseum have got another hit show on their hands with this one. Poignant, relevant, and also very funny, true to the spirit and concept of the original production. Well done chaps!

Oh What A Lovely War is at the Oldham Coliseum until 30th September.

Review: Window at the Bread and Roses Theatre

Published on September 10, 2017July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

In a world of reality TV and social media, it’s all too easy to fall into the habit of obsessively observing other people’s lives, and then comparing them to our own. In Ron Elisha’s Window, this voyeurism reaches new heights when married couple Grace and Jimmy spot their neighbours having sex, seemingly at all hours of the day and night.

It all begins as a bit of slightly naughty fun, even helping to rekindle the dormant sex life of the exhausted new parents. But when Grace falls pregnant with their second child, her interest in the young, beautiful couple across the way – in her mind, an earlier version of herself and Jimmy – starts to develop into an unhealthy obsession that affects her work, health and family life.

The two-hander play deals sensitively with issues of pre- and post-natal depression, with Idgie Beau giving a strong performance as an increasingly distressed Grace. Charles Warner is equally impressive as Jimmy, whose initial amusement soon gives way to concern for the wellbeing of his wife and baby, balanced against his frustration over her neglect of their family. Although there are moments in the story of their relationship that feel unlikely, the actors’ portrayal of it is entirely convincing.

Covering five years without ever leaving the couple’s bedroom, it would have been easy for scenes to run together, but director Dave Spencer breaks up the action with costume changes and brief musical interludes, while references in the script keep us up to speed on how much time has passed. Even so, things do start to slow ever so slightly towards the end, as the subjects of Grace’s obsession go through a personal crisis, and she dissolves again and again into panicked tears on their behalf while Jimmy tries to console her. It’s only when she finally takes action that the cycle is broken, and Grace’s recovery can begin – a moment that’s beautifully played by the actors but in terms of plot development feels a bit too neat, given all that’s gone before.

There are a few other moments where we’re required to suspend our disbelief in order to make the story work: the fact that the neighbours would never, in five years, consider closing the curtains or turning the light off, for instance; or that given the ever more blatant gawking from Grace and Jimmy, who can clearly see every detail, the other couple would never notice them. But that’s what makes the play such a perfect metaphor for social media – by putting our lives on display, we effectively open the curtains and allow anyone to see in. We know they’re there, and we kind of like it that way… but providing others with free access to our everyday lives means they inevitably see the bad as well as the good.

The situation in which Grace and Jimmy find themselves is one that the vast majority of us will never need to deal with (or let’s hope not, anyway) – but that doesn’t stop Window being highly relevant to a generation that’s as addicted to sharing as we are to observing. Although it could use a little more pace towards the end, this is an entertaining and unsettling new play that will definitely make you think twice about leaving the curtains open.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: Eyes Closed, Ears Covered at The Bunker

Published on September 10, 2017July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

In Alex Gwyther’s thriller Eyes Closed, Ears Covered, two teenage boys bunk off school and go on an adventure to Brighton. It’s obvious from the start that the two friends have a complex and potentially unhealthy relationship – and when something terrible happens on the beach, it falls to two frustrated police officers to try and make sense of the day’s events.

Much like the officers, the audience must piece together the clues to work out the real story behind Aaron and Seb’s day trip – and when the final piece of the jigsaw slots into place moments before the play ends, the truth turns out to be as shocking as it is satisfying. I love a well-written thriller that really keeps you guessing, and this play definitely falls into that category.

Photo credit: Anton Belmonté of 176 Flamingo Lane

Many of the characters in Derek Anderson’s production feature only as Big Brother-esque voiceovers, which means all our attention is focused on the story’s three leads. Danny-Boy Hatchard takes control in the first act as Aaron, who’s the mastermind behind the adventure. Outgoing and often very funny, he can also be unpredictable and aggressive when things don’t go his way… and he wields a disturbing amount of power over the naive and socially awkward Seb.

Act 2 abandons the police station and is carried by the excellent Joe Idris-Roberts, who takes us back in time to explore the tender relationship between ten-year-old Seb and his mother Lily, played by Phoebe Thomas. As well as answering a lot of the questions posed by Act 1, this part of the play also leads us into increasingly dark territory (there’s very little laughter to be heard after the interval), touching on themes of domestic violence and mental health as it paves the way for the story’s dramatic conclusion.

A simple set proves no obstacle to the storytelling, with some impeccably timed movement (directed by Jonnie Riordan) helping to build a picture of the characters’ surroundings, and Norvydas Genys’ lighting design keeping the action moving between locations, as well as back and forth in time. There’s also a great moment at the beginning of Act 2, when Lily replaces a photo of herself, appearing on stage as if by magic.

There’s just one niggle for me about the play, namely the decision to set it in the 1980s. This isn’t particularly borne out by the story (I remember just one popular culture reference to Tom Selleck as a relevant movie star), and putting 30 years between the events of the play and its audience suggests they have no relevance today – when in fact the opposite is true.

That said, this is without doubt a compelling and well executed piece of theatre, which grabs our attention from the start and never loses its intensity. With three brilliant performances and a dramatic twist ending, this dark thriller is well worth a visit.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: Dante’s Divine Comedy at Barons Court Theatre

Published on September 6, 2017January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

I mean this in the nicest way possible… but if you’re looking for a theatre in which to stage a play about descending into hell, I can think of few better than Barons Court. Partly because you actually do have to descend a flight of stairs to get there, but mostly because with its low arched ceilings and shadowy corners, it guarantees an atmospheric setting for any production.

The directors of So It Goes Theatre clearly had a similar instinct, and have returned to Barons Court for a second time with their adaptation of Dante’s Divine Comedy, based on the epic 14th century poem by Dante Alighieri. A dark tale of suffering and loss, this modern retelling also has an unexpectedly wry sense of humour, and is packed full of witty one-liners that are often as surprising as they are enjoyable. Who knew hell would be so funny? (Although I suppose the clue’s in the title…)

Following the death of Beatrice, the woman he loves, Dante’s about to kill himself when up pops the Roman poet Virgil, who takes him on a slightly grim guided tour of hell and purgatory before dropping him off at the gates of paradise, where Beatrice awaits. But their reunion may not be quite as joyous as expected…

Alex Chard is great as the depressed yet determined Dante, really coming into his own in the second half of the production when he has the opportunity to get into some meaty theological debate. His budding bromance with Virgil, played by Jack Blackburn, is fun but also surprisingly touching, particularly the moment when Dante promises to have a word with God about getting his new best mate through the Pearly Gates. Their witty banter, right up to the moment Virgil leaves, means the icy encounter that follows with Kathryn Taylor-Gears’ Beatrice is all the more jarring.

A hard-working and incredibly versatile all-female Chorus (Sofia Greenacre, Marialuisa Ferro, Sophia Speakman and Michaela Mackenzie, along with Kathryn Taylor-Gears) accompany Dante on every step of his journey, as the condemned souls suffering the countless torments of hell, those unfortunates stuck in the limbo of purgatory – brilliantly reimagined as the mind-numbing boredom of a daily commute – and the shockingly unpleasant residents of heaven. I’d go so far as to say that the Chorus steal the show in the first part of the play; their pain, fear and anger grows ever more palpable as Dante and Virgil descend deeper into the inferno.

It would be easy to assume that a small cast of seven, in a tiny pub theatre, might not be able to quite reproduce the epic scale of heaven and hell – but Douglas Baker’s production is a masterclass in how to do a lot with very little. A couple of handheld torches, a few chairs, a balloon and some cardboard cut-outs prove more than enough to create some fantastic effects, particularly when combined with video projections and some exquisite movement sequences directed by Matthew Coulton. The whole show is so absorbing, in fact, that it comes as something of a shock when Virgil suddenly breaks the fourth wall and reminds Dante – and us – that we’re just watching a piece of theatre created by the man himself; all his suffering is entirely self-inflicted.

I don’t know much about Dante’s original poem (though I may check it now), and I’m definitely no theologian – but neither is really necessary in order to appreciate this creative, powerful and really enjoyable production. So again, in the nicest possible way – I politely recommend that you go to hell.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: Talk Radio at the Old Red Lion Theatre

Published on September 2, 2017January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

We’re taught from a young age that telling the truth is important. We’re also taught that everyone has the right to say what they think. But what happens when those two things combine to create something potentially harmful, not just to another person, but to society in general? Where do we draw the line between freedom of speech and hate speech – and what can we do about it?

Eric Bogosian’s Talk Radio might have been written 30 years ago, but the issues it addresses are as fresh and current as ever. Barry Champlain, the shock jock radio DJ in Bogosian’s play, is angry, damaged, a heavy drinker and drug taker who’s incapable of maintaining a healthy adult relationship with anyone, even the people who like him. But despite appearances, his mission with the late-night radio show Night Talk – in which he encourages people to phone in and say what’s on their mind – isn’t to spread hate; instead he’s trying, in his own backwards way, to stop it. Unfortunately, his listeners aren’t getting the message… and despite Barry’s best efforts, it seems the phone is never going to stop ringing – particularly as the show’s been so successful that its bosses want to roll it out nationally.

Perhaps ironically in a play about a radio host who nobody ever sees, Matthew Jure is fascinating to watch as the chameleon-like Barry, adapting his approach at lightning speed to suit whoever’s on the end of the phone line, with the face behind the voice becoming increasingly haggard and desperate as he finally realises the monster he’s created. Isolated for the entirety of the play behind glass in his soundproof booth, he becomes almost an exhibit for his audience to examine; for better or worse, everyone thinks they know him – and have no hesitation about telling him their darkest secrets – but monologues from Barry’s three colleagues reveal the complexities behind the facade.

These three roles – nicely played by Molly McNerney, Andy Secombe and George Turvey – are necessarily a bit sketchy; their purpose is to support and facilitate Barry, both professionally and personally. The cast is completed by real-life Radio One DJ Ceallach Spellman, in a brilliant turn as vacuous teenager Kent. Invited to the studio, he’s both hilarious and horrifying in equal measure, representing for Barry everything that’s gone wrong in society.

There are two more stars in Sean Turner’s production: Max Dorey’s set, a meticulously detailed reproduction of a 1980s radio station, and Dan Bottomley’s sound design. Not surprisingly, the script calls for a lot of interaction between Barry and the recorded voices of his many callers, and this works seamlessly throughout – it’s easy to believe you’re watching an actual radio show being recorded.

Talk Radio is undoubtedly entertaining and on several occasions completely gripping, but it’s hard to leave with a smile knowing that the voices we’ve just heard haven’t gone away, and probably aren’t going to. The play certainly won’t make you feel any better about the state of the human race; if anything, Barry’s final rant is directed as much at today’s theatre audience as his Ohio-based listeners, and none of us come out of it very well. Those who spread hate aren’t the only target of his anger – he also loathes the banality of those who have nothing at all to say (I can imagine a 2017 version of Barry being incensed by the recent Love Island frenzy), and the play’s ultimate message is both damning and faintly depressing. You’d like to think that this could be a force for change, but 30 years on the sad truth is – to use Barry’s own words – it looks like we’re stuck with each other.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉