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Review: Hitchcock Homage at Barons Court Theatre

Published on June 4, 2016January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

The setting could hardly be more appropriate. Leaving behind the cheerful bustle of the Curtains Up pub in Barons Court, we descend a narrow flight of stairs towards a small, dark basement theatre, inside which the familiar Psycho theme music can be heard. As we take our seats, we discover a dead body on the floor, and as the lights go down, an instantly recognisable figure steps on to the stage.

So begins Hitchcock Homage, a play written and directed by Nick Pelas, and loosely based on the 1948 movie Rope. Two lovers have killed a man, seemingly for no obvious reason, and hidden his body inside a chest. While Beth (Grace Carmen-Davis) is ice-cool, Claudia (Francesca Mepham) can’t quite decide if she’s turned on or terrified by what they’ve done, and the pressure is beginning to get to her. The two plan to host a party for friends and family of the victim, at which snacks will be arranged on the very chest in which the dead man, Nick, is concealed. But as the party gets underway, it becomes clear that old schoolmate Roberta Fox (Roxanne Douro) is the true guest of honour…

As in the movie, which is famous for appearing to be one single continuous shot, all the action in Pelas’ play takes place in Beth and Claudia’s apartment. Because of this, the opening scenes feel a little clunky, as many of the characters – including Hitchcock himself (David Parry) – enter one by one to briefly establish who they are and their role within the story, and it’s a relief when the party begins and the action can start to flow more seamlessly.

Pelas’ tribute to the ‘master of suspense’ includes plenty of references to Hitchcock’s work, including cameo appearances from the man himself and a twist ending. And if there’s not a huge amount of suspense in the traditional sense, the murder already having been committed before the play begins, there’s nonetheless plenty of tension – both social and sexual – in the intensely awkward gathering of several distinctly unloveable characters. There’s the friend who’s only interested in making connections (Kitty Kelly), the guest who drinks too much and refuses to give straight answers to a question (Cath Humphrys), the shameless flirt (Shaun Dicks), the surly maid (Daniela Mansi); even the victim, we soon learn, wasn’t a particularly nice guy. Only Bentley (Yasser Kayani), with his clumsy attempts to woo Roberta and apparently genuine concern for his brother’s welfare, and – to a certain extent – Claudia, who gradually unravels as the play goes on, inspire any kind of sympathy. This assortment of unsavoury characters makes the whole idea of the party less sadistic and shocking than it might perhaps otherwise have been; after a while we almost want someone to find the body, just to see what they’ll do.

The other side effect of the gathering is that both story and stage become a bit crowded, and it starts to be difficult to keep track of who’s who and the relationships between them. It’s clear that several of them go way back, a fact that proves in at least one case to be key to the motivation at the heart of the story. While the cringeworthy social interactions are fun (I particularly enjoyed Ken and Layla’s insightful movie criticism), it would have been great to spend a little more time exploring these dysfunctional relationships in greater depth, to help us better understand both the events of the play and its disturbing conclusion.

Nick Pelas’ enthusiasm and admiration for Hitchcock’s work is clear throughout the play, and while some of the references may perhaps be lost on non-aficionados, the story also stands on its own as an exploration of the lengths human beings will go to in order to be accepted. The plot might date from the early 20th century, but in an age where few of us can do anything without immediately taking to social media to let our friends (and others) know about it, the story is still very relevant – much like Hitchcock himself, whose influence will undoubtedly live on for many years to come.

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: This is Living at Trafalgar Studios

Published on May 21, 2016July 22, 2018 by Liz2 Comments

This is Living began life in 2012 as a seven-minute piece about a woman saying goodbye to her husband after her death. Now developed into a full-length play, Liam Borrett’s debut is a powerful, harrowing story that leaves its audience feeling emotionally battered and yet at the same time, oddly uplifted.

Michael (Michael Socha) and Alice (Tamla Kari) are a normal couple, who’ve been together for six years and have a three-year-old daughter. There’s just one problem: hours before the opening scene of the play, Alice drowned in a tragic accident. This, it turns out, is just as difficult for her to comprehend as it is for her bereaved and shell-shocked husband, and as time ticks down to the morning of her funeral, the two struggle together to make sense of what’s happened and to say their goodbyes.

In case that all sounds a bit too grim (and at times it really is; there are moments when the pain coming off the stage is so intense it’s almost physical), we’re also taken on a journey back in time through a series of flashbacks – effectively signposted by Jackie Shemesh’s lighting design – to significant moments in Michael and Alice’s relationship. And though some of these are scarcely less traumatic, others offer some much-needed light relief for both the audience and the actors.

It’s in these moments that we truly get to know and like the characters, whose very different personalities somehow make them a perfect pair. And yet even as we’re laughing at the awkwardness of the couple’s first date, we have a constant reminder of what’s coming up later in the story, thanks to Sarah Beaton’s set: a shallow black pool of water and mud in which both Michael and Alice grow increasingly wet and dishevelled.

Liam Borrett’s script seamlessly weaves past and present together, switching without warning from comedy to tragedy and back again, and demanding from its actors a vast and versatile emotional range. Fortunately, both Michael Socha – making an impressive West End debut – and Tamla Kari are more than up to the challenge, and utterly convincing in both grief and joy. Kari in particular shines, especially in the moments she’s alone on stage and wordlessly demonstrating her pain; the closing moments of Act 1 are among the most powerful in the whole play.

In addition to being an emotional rollercoaster, This is Living is also a gripping tale that keeps us guessing right to the end. Not only must we wait to find out exactly what happened to Alice, but there are hints throughout that all may not be quite as it seems, and the end of Act 1 only throws up more questions. This leaves Act 2 with a lot of work to do, but any fears we might leave unsatisfied prove unfounded. The final scene feels oddly tacked on, suddenly revealing a bit of the set we’ve never seen before – but it finishes the play off perfectly, simultaneously clearing up any remaining questions and introducing a faint note of hope to what might otherwise have been a pretty traumatic evening.

This is Living is a powerful debut from Liam Borrett, sensitively exploring a topic nobody really wants to think about. Emotionally bruising it may be, but it’s also a compelling and beautiful love story, which draws us in and keeps us gripped throughout.

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: Every Seven Years at New Wimbledon Studio

Published on May 14, 2016July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

Apparently, it takes seven years to completely regenerate every cell in your body. So technically, you could say that seven years from now you’d be a completely different person. Theatre Bench’s Every Seven Years puts that theory to the test, following the relationship between Pam and Ralph over 63 years, from the ages of 21 to 84, stopping in with them at seven-year intervals. During that time, we see them fall in love, get married, have children, laugh, dance, argue, get drunk and grow old, experiencing together all the ups and downs that life brings with it.

I had high hopes for this play, part of Wimbledon’s Illuminate Festival, because the summary put me in mind of Patch of Blue’s Beans on Toast (part of last year’s Illuminate, coincidentally), which I loved; the two have a similar focus on memory and how it’s often the little moments that make a life what it is. And last night I left the New Wimbledon Studio – rapidly becoming one of my favourite fringe theatres – with the same warm fuzzy feeling I got from Beans.

Charlotte Baker and Ben Fensome, who wrote the show, play Pam and Ralph throughout their lives, subtly altering their appearance and body language with each new scene so that it becomes easy to forget these are two young actors playing octogenarians. They ride the emotional rollercoaster along with the audience, one minute laughing at each other’s accents (she doesn’t understand his Wiltshire slang any more than he gets her Geordie), the next coping with a crisis that threatens to end their marriage.

Director Scott Le Crass places the two inside a ring of cardboard boxes, from which they produce shopping bags, party hats and countless cups of tea (because, as we all know, there is no situation in life – good or bad – that can’t be improved by a nice cuppa). This simple design gives the play an unsettled feeling, as if Pam and Ralph’s lives are always on the verge of momentous change – which of course, in this play, they are.

The ingenious seven-year format was inspired in part by Granada Television’s Up series of documentaries, which has been following the lives of fourteen children since 1964 by returning to interview them every seven years. By just dropping in every once in a while, the play allows the audience to join the dots and decide for ourselves how its characters got from there to here.

The moments we share aren’t necessarily the big ones – we see Pam discover Ralph’s about to propose, for instance, but not the actual proposal, and there’s a lovely moment before her 50th birthday party when the two are alone, and she describes from memory every detail of his hands. Then again, life isn’t just about the big events; sometimes it’s about two 84-year-olds sitting in their kitchen in the middle of the night, drinking tea and reflecting on the years they’ve had together.

Every Seven Years invites us in to a love story that’s as messy as it is beautiful; neither Pam nor Ralph is perfect, but they’re perfect together. And the play is a heartwarming reminder that while a lot may change in seven years – events, circumstances, even our physical bodies – some things last forever.

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: Data at New Wimbledon Studio

Published on May 12, 2016January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

Direct marketing is an industry we all know exists, and which we probably all realise is not a Good Thing – and yet it continues to thrive. Andrew Maddock’s new play Data, part of the Illuminate Festival at New Wimbledon Studio, aims to expose a little about how the system works, and maybe make us think twice about the many ways we willingly offer up our personal details every day.

We all know the direct marketing industry is a bit shady, but it’s also easy to dismiss as a minor irritation that doesn’t really hurt anyone. And, let’s face it, it’s not the most glamorous subject in the world. So, like all the most successful marketing campaigns, Data appeals to our emotional side in order to get the message across.

Directed by Phil Croft, three characters reveal different aspects of the industry – each beginning within their own carefully defined space before spilling out as their stories begin to interconnect. At the business end, where data is bought and sold, are professionals like Gaz and Rachel, whose job is first to get us to part with our data, and then to use it against us. The play, presented in a poetic style, manages to explain this in relatively simple terms and in a way that keeps the subject interesting, whilst simultaneously acknowledging that it’s a hugely complex system with a multitude of loopholes.

At the other end of the story are those most at risk from Gaz and Rachel’s underhand tactics – like Bev, a lonely, confused old lady who doesn’t even remember what happened yesterday, let alone understand what TPS stands for.

Not entirely surprisingly, this is very much a story of good versus evil – and just to make sure we’re in no doubt, there’s a parallel drawn more than once between dealing in data and dealing in drugs. (“I just want leads… I think them about them all the time,” is a repeated refrain.) Gaz (Sam Ducane) is an utterly despicable character, motivated solely by money and ambition, who clearly sold his soul to the devil a long time ago, while Bev (Jean Apps) is a victim in every possible way: she’s a widow, her granddaughter wants little to do with her, her son’s moved to Australia in unpleasant circumstances; even her dog’s dead. If this were a Comic Relief video, Jean Apps’ performance would have us all reaching for our phones.

Between these two extremes – and saving the play from becoming too clean-cut – lies Rachel (Helena Doughty), with an intriguing storyline, and, it seems, at least traces of a conscience. Even as she plans her marketing campaigns for maximum emotional impact on strangers, she’s concerned for her nan’s wellbeing at the hands of other marketers, and fails to see that she herself has been manipulated by Gaz into handing over information of a different but no less powerful kind. As the one character who we don’t totally love or loathe, it would be great to see Rachel’s story developed further, particularly the relationship between what happened in her past and her attitude towards her work. Which is not to say Gaz and Bev’s stories aren’t interesting; it’s just that Rachel feels like the seesaw that could tip the balance, for better or worse.

Data certainly succeeds in provoking an emotional response, although it perhaps lacks a clearly defined call to action. The play makes us think about where our own data goes, and explains how we can protect ourselves through services like TPS (though even these, we’re told, are possible to get around). But there’s a wider problem here, which the play does a great job of educating us about – and then leaves us wondering, what can be done?

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 Local Stigmatic at the Old Red Lion Theatre

Published on May 7, 2016July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

This year sees the 50th anniversary of Heathcote Williams’ The Local Stigmatic, which follows two sociopaths obsessed with celebrity culture. First performed in Edinburgh in 1966, the play was later made into a film starring Al Pacino. Michael Toumey’s new production remains faithful to the 1960s setting in which the play was written, and yet the story still feels chillingly relevant in our modern world of social media and reality TV.

Graham (Wilson James) and Ray (William Frazer) are two friends who spend their time gambling, getting thrown out of pubs and reading newspaper gossip columns. When they bump into David (Tom Sawyer), a slightly famous actor, the two befriend him – but their twisted game takes a sudden, shocking turn, revealing their deep resentment of the celebrities they follow so religiously, and the depths to which they’re willing to go to prove their own superiority.

Wilson James and William Frazer give two unforgettable performances as Graham and Ray, subtly highlighting the differences in their personalities. Graham is the undoubted leader; his wide-eyed, unblinking stare (which he occasionally fixes on terrified audience members) gives the impression of a man on the brink of madness, and yet we soon discover beneath it all he’s always in control, choosing and pronouncing his words carefully to manipulate those around him.

Ray, on the other hand, is arguably the scarier of the two – though physically much more relaxed, and even occasionally quite funny, he too carries a pent-up rage that occasionally explodes in violence, and his blank-faced subservience to Graham, particularly in the closing minutes of the play, is truly chilling. Tom Sawyer’s David never stands a chance against this pair as, clearly flattered by their attention, he’s led neatly into the trap.

The dialogue is fast-moving and laden with meaning; it’s the sort of script that needs to be heard more than once to catch all the references (it also helps, I think, if you have a little knowledge of dog racing). What is clear is the way phrases are repeated throughout but with shifting significance, as the piece builds towards its shocking conclusion. And it is truly shocking, though not in the way I expected. When you’re braced for blood and gore, the violence initially seems a bit tame… but its power lies in the ability to send our imaginations into overdrive to fill in the gaps.

A simple set allows the actors to move easily between home, where celebrity posters adorn the walls, and the outside world, whilst keeping the two distinct. Tom Kitney’s lighting helps create an increasingly tense atmosphere, and sound designer Neil McKeown uses 60s hits to great effect both between and during scenes, to ensure some of the most powerful moments are those where no words are spoken.

The Local Stigmatic is an extreme example, but we only have to look at the increasingly common occurrences of internet trolling, or read the comments on any article in the Daily Mail sidebar, to realise the resentment felt by Graham and Ray towards the rich and famous is still shared by many. And now that we live in a world where we don’t even need to be stalkers to know all about the lives of celebrities we follow – a word used with startling prescience in Williams’ script, written long before Facebook or Twitter had even been dreamed of – this 50-year-old play feels more relevant than ever.

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… 😉