review – Page 59 – Theatre Things

Review: Wet Bread at the King’s Head Theatre

Published on July 12, 2017January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

If you’ve found yourself constantly surprised and disappointed over the last twelve months by the results of public votes, you’re not alone; Adele, the protagonist in Tom Glover’s Wet Bread, knows exactly how you feel. A lifelong campaigner, she’s saying and doing all the right things – helping the homeless, going on fun runs, organising sit-ins against fracking (despite not knowing exactly what it is), and most importantly looking down her nose at Tories, Brexiteers, and indeed anyone who doesn’t agree with her. And if that means her relationship with her family is in tatters, she’s ditched the man of her dreams because he eats meat, and the alcoholic homeless guy staying in her flat won’t stop calling her Twinkletits – well, that’s just the price that needs to be paid for being a good person. Right?

Performed by Morag Sims, Wet Bread is simultaneously very funny and often slightly uncomfortable viewing, because while many of the scenarios are just a bit too ridiculous to be realistic, they still touch a nerve in a world where political arguments all too often become personal, and rage just as fiercely on Twitter as they do in Parliament. Adele’s not a bad person; she genuinely longs to change the world, and there’s nothing wrong with that – but in defending her own beliefs, she’s inadvertently become as intolerant and judgmental as the classic “evil Tory” she’s fighting against. Worse, she’s been so busy fighting everybody that she’s lost sight of what’s going on with the people closest to her.

The play isn’t a criticism of left-wing politics – or right-wing, either; despite Adele’s bitter diatribes against – well, everyone – there’s no suggestion that one side of the political divide is better than the other. If anything, the play’s trying to tone down our increasingly urgent need to politicise anything and everything that happens, and to point out how ridiculous both sides can be. None of which means we have to give up our principles – but maybe, Glover suggests, we should be focusing more on what unites us than on what drives us apart; to stop making everything into a battle and instead try to change the world in small, positive ways.

Sims comfortably owns the stage, skipping through an array of characters, from an enthusiastic fun run organiser (“yay, cancer!”) to Adele’s devastated and petulant niece, who’s just learnt that her birthday present is a goat – and that she doesn’t even get to keep it. Adele herself is a bit like the Bridget Jones of politics: loveable but a bit of a fool, quick to overreact and always taking things just a little too far. It’s a brilliant comedy performance, but a bittersweet finale is delivered with genuine sincerity to ensure Glover’s point is driven home.

Wet Bread is a lot of fun, but it should also make us stop and think – not about what our political views are, but rather why we have them and how we wield them. The main character may in this case be a leftie, but there’s plenty of entertainment and education in this 60-minute production for audiences of all persuasions.

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: The Ladykillers at Upstairs at the Gatehouse

Published on July 8, 2017January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

Based on William Rose’s 1955 movie, The Ladykillers was adapted for the stage by Graham Linehan in 2011. A hilariously over the top and extremely British slapstick comedy, the play’s staged with great exuberance at the Gatehouse by the always entertaining Tower Theatre Company.

The story behind The Ladykillers is almost as much fun as the plot itself, which apparently came to screenwriter William Rose in a dream; he woke up in the middle of the night and told his wife, then went back to sleep – while she got up and wrote it all down so that she could remind him in the morning.

Mrs Wilberforce is a little old lady who lives alone with her ailing parrot, General Gordon. When she rents her upstairs room to what she thinks is a group of classical musicians, little does she know they’re actually robbers planning a heist at Kings Cross. This is quite surprising – partly because Mrs Wilberforce usually sees conspiracy theories everywhere, but also because the eccentric Professor Marcus and his gang are particularly inept criminals. The stage is set for chaos, and this production certainly delivers – even the set seemed to be in on the joke, with Mrs Wilberforce’s front door frequently swinging open of its own accord.

That little issue aside, the set is impressive; stretching the full length of the substantial stage area at the Gatehouse, it allows us to see simultaneously into Mrs Wilberforce’s front room, the upstairs room and even, briefly, on to the roof. Everything in the house is a bit lop-sided (Mrs W unfortunately suffers from subsidence), and its proximity to the nearby railway line presents various comic opportunities in both set design and storyline.

The cast have a lot of fun with their characters, all of whom are entirely ridiculous in their own way. Alison Liney leads the way as the clueless yet indomitable Mrs Wilberforce, while Ed Malcomson channels Basil Fawlty as the artist and criminal “mastermind” Professor Marcus, desperately trying to hold his plan together despite the best efforts of his incompetent colleagues. Dan Usztan’s nice but dim One Round is a delight, and there’s some enjoyable physical comedy from pill-popping Harry, played by Samuel Currie-Smith. Completing the gang of misfits are Alex T Hornby as Louis, a brooding Romanian hitman, and Michael Bettell as nervous wreck (and closet cross-dresser), the Major.

Like most farces, many of the jokes – and the play’s ending – can be anticipated, but that doesn’t make them any less fun to watch. There are also a few enjoyable digs at artistic pretension and the British obsession with class and social appearances (which landed particularly well with the North London audience). The Ladykillers is perfect light-hearted evening entertainment, with a reminder that there’s a little good in the worst of men – though it may just turn out to be their downfall.

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: torn apart (dissolution) at The Hope Theatre

Published on July 8, 2017July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

One of the warnings on the door at Bj McNeill’s torn apart (dissolution) is of full frontal nudity. What it doesn’t mention is that this doesn’t just mean physical nakedness. Yes, the first three scenes of the play each begin with a couple having enthusiastic sex, but there’s a lot more going on here. Over 90 breathless, intense minutes, the six characters in this interlocking trio of love stories are stripped bare emotionally as well as sexually, as we touch on family, politics, drug addiction, homosexuality and much more.

I previously saw the play at Theatre N16, where I remember being struck by the proximity of Szymon Ruszczewski’s set – a string cage that encloses the stage area – to the audience. At The Hope Theatre, if possible, we’re even closer to the action and there’s nowhere to hide as the three stories unfold mere inches away, sometimes quite literally in our faces. Alina (Nastazja Somers), a student in West Germany in the early 1980s, is locked in a passionate relationship with an American soldier (Charlie Allen) who’ll soon have to return home. Elliott (Elliott Rogers), in London in 1999, is in love with Australian backpacker Casey (Christina Baston) whose visa’s about to run out. And Holly (Sarah Hastings), now, is struggling to rationalise her decision to leave her perfect husband and embark on a relationship with Erica (Monty Leigh) – who’s dealing with problems and a past of her own.

There’s a secret that links the three couples together, which is gradually revealed piece by piece as the play goes on; seeing it for the second time it’s fascinating to see the little clues scattered along the way. But what ultimately unites them all, as the play’s title suggests, is the experience of lost love and the lasting impact this can have – and not only on those directly involved. The early scenes of carefree, passionate lovemaking soon feel like a distant memory as the clothes go on and the relationships begin to crumble. And though the three couples are indeed torn apart by circumstances beyond their control, it’s clear that, while their love is genuine, each also has (perhaps) insurmountable issues that may only be revealed in the privacy of their own bedroom.

The show’s main strength lies in its excellent cast, all but one of whom reprise their roles from torn apart‘s previous run in Balham. The relationships – both physical and otherwise – are totally convincing, and the actors play expertly on our emotions as they try desperately to hold on to what they have at any cost. McNeill has made a point of placing female characters at the centre of the action and allowing the female voice to come through loud and proud, particularly in Nastazja Somers’ Alina and Christina Baston’s Casey, who stand up for what they think is right rather than take the easy option, even if it means losing everything.

But McNeill also avoids falling into the trap of promoting women by relegating men to a one-dimensional role; both Charlie Allen and Elliott Rogers portray characters who are just as complex and damaged as the women they love. Sarah Hastings and Monty Leigh complete the cast as two women who come from very different backgrounds and have very different ideas about pretty much everything. They spend more time arguing than anything else, yet there’s a genuine tenderness in their relationship, and Holly’s desperate attempts to hold on to the life she’s only just discovered is particularly heartbreaking.

Fearless and uncompromising, torn apart (dissolution) is not a play that can be easily forgotten; nor is it one that everybody will agree on (and there’s enough material for several post-show discussions) – which just goes to show that when it comes to love, there are no right or wrong answers.

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: Instructions for American Servicemen in Britain at Jermyn Street Theatre

Published on July 5, 2017January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

There’s nothing we Brits love more than laughing at ourselves… except possibly laughing at Americans. Instructions for American Servicemen in Britain from Fol Espoir and The Real MacGuffins has both of these things. It also has cricket, Brussels sprouts and a perfectly brewed pot of tea. It’s very funny if you’re British, possibly a little less so if you’re American, and I imagine fairly baffling to everyone else.

The premise is simple: a unit of American airmen, recently arrived in England during World War II, has had rather too much fun in the nearby village of Nether Middleton – resulting in a cat up a tree, the local policeman locked in his own cell, and a prize marrow stuck on the church spire. As compensation, they must apologise and help clean up, but also take a course in British culture, to foster friendship and cooperation with their new neighbours – all whilst preparing for a visit from “the President of London”, Winston Churchill himself.

You can probably imagine what comes next. Instructions for American Servicemen in Britain is a high-energy, tongue-in-cheek and frequently quite bonkers celebration of the many ways in which Brits and Americans are different – and the many, many ways that each nation’s way of life baffles the other. Think Dad’s Army with Americans, and you get the general idea.

It’s all inspired by a genuine pamphlet issued to American GIs in 1942 introducing them to the quirks and customs of British life, but that’s where the historical accuracy comes to an end – or at least I assume it does, otherwise I’m really not sure how we ever won the war. A few of the jokes are funny precisely because of the historical nature of the show and the benefit of hindsight; an oblique reference to the current resident of the White House goes down particularly well, as does the British lieutenant’s disdain for decimalisation as he launches into a hilariously convoluted explanation of pounds, shillings and pence.

Established comedy trio The Real MacGuffins – aka Dan March, Jim Millard and Matt Sheahan, who wrote the show with director John Walton – turn up with a variety of costumes and accents as, among others, a bullying American colonel, some German spies-in-training, a cricket-loving English lord and a randy Scottish pensioner. They’re clearly having a blast, and it’s impossible not to get caught up in their enthusiasm, or to admire their improvisation skills when the occasional curveball is tossed their way from the audience (cricket fans, please pardon the baseball pun).

Speaking of the audience, it’s worth mentioning – without giving anything away – that this is a show requiring everyone’s participation. The front row is a particular danger zone, but even those hiding at the back will have an opportunity to join in the fun, even if there isn’t really sufficient space to get involved properly (I’ll just leave that there for your imagination to mull over). But it’s all very good-natured and there’s no pressure on anybody to perform, so if you’re not a fan of participatory theatre, don’t let it put you off.

Like all the best comedy, Instructions for American Servicemen in Britain is funny because it’s largely true, a joyous celebration of all those little oddities of which we Brits are secretly rather proud. Definitely one to check out in between drinking tea and talking about the weather…

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: Mumburger at Old Red Lion Theatre

Published on July 1, 2017January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

First, a word of warning: don’t go and see Mumburger on an empty stomach. It’s all kinds of confusing.

Now that we’ve got that out the way, let’s discuss Sarah Kosar’s play. Andrea just died in a horrific car accident on the M25, leaving behind her devastated daughter Tiffany (Rosie Wyatt, reprising her Offie-nominated role) and husband Hugh (Andrew Frame). What begins as a seemingly straightforward story of two people struggling to process their grief in very different ways (she’s made a Google spreadsheet and is looking at urns on Amazon; he just wants to read the messages of condolence on Facebook and watch his wife’s favourite movie) takes a surreal and grisly turn when a mysterious delivery arrives. Inside the greasy bag are burgers – an odd enough sight in a house of committed vegans, even before we learn that they’re in fact a “Digestive Memorial” arranged by Andrea as a way to sustain her family after she’s gone.

If it’s visceral theatre you’re after, you’ve come to the right place; it’s impossible to watch Mumburger – which follows Tiffany and Hugh’s horrified attempts to abide by Andrea’s final wish – without feeling some kind of physical reaction. Director Tommo Fowler has obeyed to the letter the writer’s instruction that “the actors should consume food when it says they eat”, so there’s no getting away from either the consumption or the various bodily functions that accompany it. (Or indeed the smell of cooking burgers, which explains the confusion I mentioned earlier.) It’s disgusting and messy and uncomfortable to watch, particularly when you add into the mix a series of video projections against the curtain at the back of the set, which verge at times on motion sickness inducing.

But let’s put the meat to one side for a second. At its heart, Mumburger is a story about a family coping with the loss of the person that held them together. Though we never meet Andrea, Kosar’s script paints a detailed picture of her; it’s clear from listening to Tiffany and Hugh argue and reminisce that she was the common link between them, and that without her they’re almost strangers who have no idea how to communicate. Both are also pretty annoying in their own ways; Tiffany, played by Rosie Wyatt, is shrill, domineering and self-involved, while Andrew Frame’s Hugh would rather play Candy Crush on his iPad than deal with anything even remotely difficult. Each believes that they knew Andrea better and therefore has more right to grieve, and the mumburgers become a physical manifestation of that competition. All of which begs the question: was Andrea’s intention really a noble wish to help her bereaved daughter and husband go on, or was it prompted by her own selfish need to maintain her position at the centre of the family for as long as possible?

Many plays about bereavement go for the emotional jugular, encouraging us to feel sympathy for the characters and move us to tears as we watch them bond over memories of their loved one. Mumburger is not one of these plays. You’re more likely to come out feeling slightly sick than overwhelmed with emotion (though the play certainly has its moments) but that doesn’t make it any less real, and in this regard it’s actually oddly refreshing. Death – particularly of the sudden, violent kind – is not romantic or glamorous, but messy and painful. Not everyone who dies is perfect; nor are the people they leave behind. Grief can drive us apart just as much as it brings us together. These may not be truths we want to hear – or see, or smell – but they’re truths all the same. Not one for the faint-hearted (or vegetarians), maybe, but Mumburger certainly makes a lasting and powerful impression.

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… 😉