Review: Julius Caesar at the Bridge Theatre

I intended to start writing my review of The Bridge Theatre’s thrilling, immersive production of Julius Caesar on the train home last night. Instead, I ended up texting pretty much everyone I know to tell them they should go and see it immediately. Having slept on that opinion, I stand by it 100%.

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Nicholas Hytner’s production brings ancient Rome screaming into the 21st century with a politically relevant and heart-poundingly gripping take on Shakespeare’s play. While the adaptation steers clear of overt references to any specific regime, there are shades of a certain red baseball cap wearing president in David Calder’s portrayal of Caesar (with one particular gesture that simultaneously clarifies who he’s modelled on and seals our dislike towards him, just moments before his assassination). Perhaps in light of this it’s not surprising that two of the main conspirators against him are strong female figures – Michelle Fairley as Cassius and Adjoa Andoh as Casca – who convince Ben Whishaw’s nervous, endearingly geeky Brutus to join them, only for him to take over the entire plan, overrule all their ideas and mess everything up.

Julius Caesar is a story that works particularly well in an immersive format, because so much of the play focuses on the power of political rhetoric to sway the masses. Standing in the midst of the crowd, clutching a Caesar poster someone had just thrust into my hand while Brutus flyers rained down all around, it was easy to get caught up in the tidal wave of popular opinion as first Brutus and then Mark Antony – played with conviction and down to earth charisma by David Morrissey – took to the stage at Caesar’s funeral.

That said, it only works if the immersive aspects of the show are convincing, and on that front this production delivers to such an extent I actually felt a bit traumatised by the end. From the celebratory gig that’s already underway as we arrive, to the screams of discreetly positioned cast members at Caesar’s assassination, to the debris that falls from above as the theatre’s rocked by explosions and gunfire – the attention to detail is mind-blowing. True, it’s not the most comfortable two hours you’ll ever spend; prepare to be herded fairly roughly from one position to another, to be stepped on by fellow audience members, and possibly even to have an actor scream “Move!” in your face. But I’d still recommend getting a standing ticket if you can physically manage it (the play is two hours with no interval) if an authentic experience is what you’re after.

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

On the other hand, if you want a good view of Bunny Christie’s incredible set (and prefer to keep your toes untrampled), a seated ticket is probably the way to go; inevitably anyone watching from the ground won’t be able to see everything, whereas from above you’ll be better able to appreciate the versatility of both the space and the set. Consisting of multiple platforms that rise and fall to create a new stage area for each new scene, it’s like spending the evening in several different theatres all at once.

In a city that was already full of theatres, The Bridge – which only opened in October – has already more than proved its worth. This gripping production will thrill those who already know and love Shakespeare, but more importantly, it may just change the minds of those who don’t.

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Interview: Emma Bentley, What Goes On In Front Of Closed Doors

Emma Bentley is co-artistic director of Joue le Genre, an emerging theatre company based in London and Lille. Her last show, one-woman play To She Or Not To She, addressed gender equality within the theatre; her latest project, What Goes On In Front Of Closed Doors, addresses a different but equally weighty topic: homelessness. Following a successful run in Edinburgh last summer, in February the show embarks on a spring tour that will take it to venues including Yvonne Arnaud Theatre’s Mill Studio and the King’s Head in Islington.

Closed Doors is about Molly Brentwood, a young woman who is feisty and argumentative and gets on better with boys than girls,” explains Emma, who plays Molly. “We meet her in her bedroom in a homeless hostel, and she tells us about all the moments that she thinks might have led her to that point. That’s what she’s trying to figure out, anyway.”

 

The play, written by Calum Finlay, began life as a small scratch piece for Pleasance in June 2016. “Calum and I wanted to tell the story of how homelessness can happen to anyone – although I’m very cautious about using the word ‘homeless’ when talking about the show, because I think people get a very specific vision of the type of scenes it’s going to explore,” says Emma. “So that’s why it was important to show it from the perspective of a young woman. To break that expectation. Plus because that makes me happy as an artist and a feminist to make work about women. And women in situations that we don’t get to see very often on stage – not being glamorous, not in a relationship, from a working class background.

“Since I moved to London, homelessness has been on the forefront of my brain and I would always try to learn more about people’s stories. Then in 2016 I started volunteering at St Mungo’s. The amazing work they do to give people a home inspires me a lot. People that come and see the play will probably have an interest in the homelessness sector, but if they’ve been dragged along and they don’t, I hope that it allows them to empathise more with people living on the streets. The way that people who beg or sleep rough are treated is horrendous and people don’t realise you don’t have to give money every time – just say ‘Sorry I don’t have anything,’ instead of just ignoring them or getting angry. People complain that they’ll just spend it on drugs when they don’t know the first thing about being an addict; it makes me really angry. Although I think part of it is fear as well.”

Emma wrote a first draft of the script, which was staged at Pleasance in February 2017. “Then after that Calum said, ‘I’ve got this idea for the script,’ and he sent me the first couple of pages in this new style – a lot more lyrical, weird and mysterious and I said ‘I love it, do it to the whole thing please.’ So he did and it’s a beautiful, haunting script.

“We’ve worked with Anna Beecher on the dramaturgy of the piece, and for Edinburgh Anna Souter did our set design. For this spring tour of the show I’m working with Katharina Reinthaller, who directed me in To She Or Not To She for the Lyric Hammersmith, and a designer she works with called Rasa Selemonavičiūtė. It’s fantastic to work with Katharina again because we have a shared language, and I think Calum and I both knew that we needed someone’s fresh perspective on the script. Plus Calum is in Mary Stuart at the mo so he’s a bit busy!”

Closed Doors has been significantly re-worked since Emma last performed it in Edinburgh in 2017 – though she admits it can be difficult to make big changes to material she’s personally invested in: “When you change things you think, ‘Hold on wait, was there anything wrong with it in the first place? I can’t even remember now’, and that’s why it’s useful to work with a bigger team.

“We started with the script. We didn’t have a video of the show post Edinburgh so we couldn’t look back on it. I’d like to say we went on gut feelings. We met up and talked a lot about the main framing device, which now we’ve completely changed. As it’s such a tech heavy show this framing device needed to be simplified so that the complexity could lie in the language and images on stage.”

With this new tour, Emma’s looking forward to meeting more audiences, hopefully sharing the play with some young people who have or are experiencing homelessness themselves, and hearing what they think about it. “In Edinburgh, quite a lot of people who I spoke to after the show thought it was about me, which I guess is a massive compliment – it was also sad though as they looked worried about saying goodbye at the end. The best response though was that some teenagers were heard on a bus in Edinburgh talking about the show and about what they could do individually to help people who are homeless.

“The dream would be if someone came after seeing the show on tour and said something like, ‘I never really thought about how it actually could happen to someone – I thought they were just lazy, and now I realise they’ve just taken a few wrong turns.’

“Maybe the show will even help people from ever getting into a situation like Molly’s themselves. Through making the show, I’ve learnt what to do if I were to ever be in that position; if I didn’t have a supportive group of family and friends to help me, then I would know where to look for help. It’s useful information. We’re all only a few steps away from homelessness, especially in the theatre industry. Who knows if it might help someone spot the signs, before they or a friend become close to sleeping rough.”

Review: Ken at The Bunker Theatre

Ken Campbell was a writer, actor, director and legendary prankster, who had a profound influence on the careers of some of Britain’s best-loved entertainers – among them Terry Johnson and Jeremy Stockwell, whose two-man show marks the tenth anniversary of their friend’s death.

The Ken experience begins with Tim Shortall’s set; stepping inside The Bunker is like going back in time to the 1970s. There’s plush pink carpet everywhere you look, a smell of incense hanging in the air, and a random assortment of audience seating choices, from cushions to bar stools.

The format of the show, directed by Lisa Spirling, is equally unusual, and sees Johnson (in the programme named as The Writer but in reality speaking as himself) presenting from a lectern for the majority of its 90-minute duration. Meanwhile Jeremy Stockwell roams the theatre as Ken, spending more time among the audience than he does on stage (though that doesn’t mean he isn’t participating in the show – far from it). Both men appear throughout to be enjoying themselves immensely, not least when the script – deliberately or not, it’s impossible to tell – goes out the window.

Photo credit: Robert Day

Ken is difficult to put into any particular box; I can best describe it as a hybrid of part theatre, part stand-up, part eulogy, and it’s this last that leaves the deepest impression. Among other anecdotes, we learn how Ken and Terry met in a chance encounter, witness their collaboration on a notorious 24-hour production at the Edinburgh Fringe, and hear about a later, equally infamous, attempt to stage The Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy – an attempt that marked the end of Terry Johnson’s acting career (until now, at least).

Johnson is open and honest about his tempestuous relationship with Campbell and his own journey of self-discovery as a result of their friendship. Despite all the ups and downs, there’s an obvious affection there as he looks back with a wry smile on their madcap adventures, and the play closes with a poignant reflection on Campbell’s funeral and the legacy he left behind.

Jeremy Stockwell’s performance, in contrast to Johnson’s quiet dignity, is brash, unembarrassed, and not afraid to improvise. Even for those of us not familiar with the real Ken, there’s such conviction in his portrayal that it’s easy to believe we’re in the presence of the man himself, though he slips just as easily into other impressions, from Irish actor John Joyce to theatre director Trevor Nunn. His performance is exciting to watch because – like Campbell – he’s entirely unpredictable and we never quite know what he might say or do next.

Photo credit: Robert Day

Ken is a moving, warm tribute to an unforgettable character. There’s no doubting the sincerity of the performance or the sentiments expressed, but the show stops short of becoming maudlin; as Johnson points out, Ken – who reminded his friends from beyond the grave that “funeral” is an anagram of “real fun” – would have hated that. Like all the best memorials, this is a joyful and more than a little bonkers celebration of a unique life and personality, and through it Ken lives on.

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Review: Monster at The Vaults

Joe Sellman-Leava seems the least likely person to appear in a show about anger and violence. Affable, chatty and funny, he keeps telling us throughout his hour-long solo show Monster that he’s “not that guy”, and because we like him, we believe him – but should we?

Photo credit: Ben Borley

In essence, the show is made up of two stories; in one, Joe’s increasingly fraught relationship with his girlfriend, and in the other Joe learning his lines for a role as a violent husband. Unable to connect to the character, he embarks on some intense internet research into the lives of Patrick Stewart, whose father was abusive, and Mike Tyson, for whom violence – in and out of the ring – was simply a way of life. Both men are voiced by Sellman-Leava, who switches rapidly between the two very different personas in an impressive display of imitation and versatility.

The two threads seem at first quite separate, but ultimately collide in a dramatic climax that may or may not have really happened (we’re told up front that some of the show’s content is true, and some isn’t). It’s not just about that one scene, though; the show is full of little moments that have the potential to explode – a male director’s condescending attitude towards Joe’s female co-star, for instance, or Joe’s own memories of childhood violence, which he insists don’t count because nobody actually got hurt.

The point of all this is to demonstrate that whether we like it or not, every one of us has the potential for violence. Anger is a natural human response, but it’s how we choose to act on that emotion that decides whether or not we become “that guy”. At a time when men’s treatment of women is very much under the microscope, it’s refreshing to hear a male voice that’s not just offering platitudes but actually stepping up and admitting his own (possible) contribution to the problem.

Photo credit: Ben Borley

As in Worklight Theatre’s previous show, Labels, which explores his own personal experience of racism, Monster demonstrates Joe Sellman-Leava’s ability to boldly tackle difficult and controversial issues with passion and honesty. The fast-moving performance, directed by Yaz Al-Shaater, uses few props and consequently relies almost solely on Sellman-Leava’s personality and considerable talent for bringing multiple different characters to life. The show has a complex structure, flitting back and forth between Joe’s room, the rehearsal room, the online interviews and excerpts from some of Shakespeare’s more troubling texts, yet somehow he keeps us with him every step of the way, guiding us slowly but surely towards the show’s thought-provoking message.

Monster has been in development since it began life as a short piece in 2009. Since then it’s been rewritten and reworked multiple times, and now comes to the stage at what feels like exactly the right time, as uncomfortable but essential viewing.

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Review: Tomorrow Creeps at the Vaults

As venues go, The Vaults isn’t going to win any awards for audience comfort. It’s dark, chilly and damp; trains rumble alarmingly overhead and every sound echoes off the tunnel walls. All of which makes it an ideal place to experience Golem!’s Tomorrow Creeps, a spooky, dramatic and powerfully atmospheric collision of Shakespeare, Kate Bush, David Lynch, Hannibal Lecter… The hour-long play draws on so many cultural influences it’s hard to keep up.

Following on from previous productions Macbeths and I Know You Of Old, in Tomorrow Creeps writer and actor David Fairs creates an original story by combining lines from sixteen works of Shakespeare with inspiration provided by the music of Kate Bush. In his dank prison cell, the Fallen Tyrant is visited by the Hollow Hero who, against his better judgment, is seeking the villain’s help to find his daughter. But he’s not the only visitor; the spirit of the Fallen Tyrant’s dead wife is there too, and she’s not about to let him go without a fight.

That’s a simple summary of a story that at times is all a bit bewildering – theatregoers who favour straightforward, easy to follow storylines may struggle to get on board. In reality, though, the plot of the play is only one element of a complex production that weaves together text, light, sound and space to produce something that’s hard to put into words (always a fun challenge for a reviewer). Ultimately, I’d suggest not trying to make sense of everything that’s happening and instead just going with it, because there’s a lot here that’s great. It can often sound negative to leave a play and remark, “That was an experience.” But in this case, it genuinely is.

The play was devised specifically for The Vaults, and the space allows for an element of realism; there’s never a moment when we don’t feel we’re right there in the prison with the characters. But this is above all a tale of fantasy, of supernatural forces and witchcraft, and director Anna Marsland brings this to life with an outstanding lighting design that picks out details, casts dramatic shadows and at times makes the whole space come alive with dizzying movement. The spooky atmosphere is heightened by Odinn Hilmarsson’s sound design, which subtly draws out the existing soundscape of the venue to spine-chilling effect.

Equally chilling are the performances of the three actors, as each character teeters on the brink of their own unique madness. Conor O’Kane is the picture of despair and self-loathing as the Hollow Hero, a broken man who’s lost everything and has now been reduced to asking for help from his enemy. David Fairs’ Fallen Tyrant is more controlled and charismatic in his exchanges with the Hollow Hero (I half expected him to start talking about fava beans and a nice Chianti) – but he too is tormented by forces beyond his control. Enter Zena Carswell as the Spectral Queen: passionate, wild and mud-spattered, she’s the living embodiment of Cathy from Wuthering Heights.

Though it continues the Golem! tradition of repurposing Shakespeare texts, Tomorrow Creeps is without doubt their most ambitious project by some margin. It won’t be for everyone, but it also doesn’t exclude anyone – for those who know and love Shakespeare, there’s the enjoyable challenge of identifying the source texts; for fans of Kate Bush there are some electrifying moments that I won’t ruin for you. Having said that, there’s nothing in the play that demands inside knowledge – and someone with no particular interest in either Shakespeare or Kate Bush is at no disadvantage compared to any other audience member.

As I said, it’s difficult to put into words. So all I can suggest is that you go and see, hear, feel and experience it for yourself.

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