Trafalgar Studio 2 – Page 2

Review: BU21 at Trafalgar Studio Two

Published on January 13, 2017July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

Human beings tend to have a strange fascination with tragedy. Everyone has a “where I was on 9/11” story, for instance, even though in 99% of cases it makes absolutely no difference to anyone but us where we were when the Twin Towers were hit. And we often find ourselves morbidly gripped by all the details – whether that means slowing down to peer at the car crash on the other side of the road, or following minute-by-minute updates from the BBC on the latest terrorist attack.

I like to think this is not because we’re all awful people, but because we have no other way to process the unspeakable horror of what’s happening. There can’t be many of us who haven’t imagined at least once over the last few months and years the very real possibility of getting caught up in a major catastrophe – whether terrorist or accidental – but nobody ever really thinks it’ll happen to them, or knows how they’d react if it did.

This is the inspiration for Stuart Slade’s excellent and thought-provoking BU21, which brings together six young Londoners affected in different ways when a fictional terrorist attack brings a plane crashing to the ground in Fulham, a few months from now. Each has their own story to tell: Ana (Roxana Lupu), horribly burnt and wheelchair-bound after the plane smashed into the park where she was sunbathing; Izzy (Isabella Laughland), who found out her mum was dead through a photo on Twitter; Alex (Alexander Forsyth), whose girlfriend and best friend were killed while in bed together; Graham (Graham O’Mara), an eyewitness who finds himself an accidental celebrity; Floss (Florence Roberts), traumatised by the sight of a man in a plane seat dying in her back garden; and Clive (Clive Keene), a young Muslim looking for answers in the wake of the crash. The fact that each of the actors is, in a way, playing an alternate version of themselves lends the play an unsettling authenticity, strengthened by the fact that the attack hasn’t yet taken place – but still could.

Dan Pick’s production is set in the soulless room where the six meet for their PTSD support group, illuminated by flickering strip lights, and furnished with a few plastic chairs and a metal trolley bearing the obligatory plate of biscuits that nobody ever eats. Yet despite a set-up that should suggest human connection, the majority of the play consists of monologues, with each character speaking into a void while the others deliberately look away.

Each account is horrifically detailed and brutally honest; there’s no glamour here, no tragic heroes, no political correctness or bold display of unity in the face of adversity – there’s just a bloody mess, and a bunch of people trying to pick up the pieces of their broken lives. The characters are not all nice people, they don’t all get a happy ending, and it’s difficult to tell how much support any of them are actually giving or getting as a result of talking things through. In the end, each of them copes in their own way, whether that means milking it or avoiding it, getting on with life or unable to move, seeking comfort or shutting people out.

Slade doesn’t offer judgment or try and tell us who’s right or wrong – if anything, the spotlight is turned instead on our own attitudes. There’s the obvious one, of course, although I can’t imagine many people honestly believed Clive the Muslim would turn out to be a terrorist. But there are also moments that catch us off guard, like when Alex the charming but obnoxious banker suddenly breaks the fourth wall and challenges our decision to exploit his misery for our entertainment. Or every time we laugh – which happens a lot more than you’d expect – always with the uncomfortable sensation that we’re being disrespectful.

BU21 may deal with a terrorist attack, but it’s not a political play; we never really find out who the perpetrators were, and nor does it matter. Stuart Slade’s focus is on the psychology of human beings in a moment of crisis, and while we may not leave the theatre knowing how to survive a plane crash, we might just find we’ve learnt a little something about ourselves.

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Review: Vanities: the Musical at Trafalgar Studios

Published on September 10, 2016July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

We’ve waited ten years, but it’s finally here. ‎The London debut of Vanities: the Musical has been hotly anticipated, and it’s easy to see why. David Kirshenbaum’s show, which in turn is based on a 1976 play by Jack Heifner, has all the ingredients of a smash hit: an uplifting story, a catchy, toe-tapping score, a stellar cast of West End stars, and direction and choreography from American Idiot’s Racky Plews.

Kathy (Ashleigh Gray), Mary (Lauren Samuels) and Joanne (Lizzy Connolly) are cheerleaders from Dallas, Texas, preparing to graduate high school in 1964. Life’s been kind to the three best friends, who are used to being pretty and popular, and generally getting what they want. They have their whole lives planned out – but as the years pass, reality intrudes on their insular, superficial world, and the young women begin to realise things don’t always turn out quite like you thought they would. Can their friendship survive?

It’s essentially the plot of every classic American chick flick we’ve ever seen, and certainly doesn’t stand up to scrutiny in terms of realism. But those movies are wildly popular for a reason, and as cheesy and predictable as Vanities is, it’s also very easy to relate to. We might not all have been cheerleaders or sorority girls (and we definitely don’t all own erotic art galleries), but we were all teenagers once, and it’s easy to recognise ourselves – albeit sometimes a bit reluctantly – in the characters at each stage of their lives.

Because of limited space at the tiny Trafalgar Studios, where the audience sit so close to the stage that there’s a very good chance of getting hit in the face by a flying pom-pom, Vanities needs to have more up its sleeve than dazzling song and dance numbers. Racky Plews’ necessarily restrained production means the cast have nowhere to hide (unless you count the curtained changing rooms into which they disappear occasionally to age a few years), and Lauren Samuels, Lizzy Connolly and Ashleigh Gray rise to the occasion magnificently.

Alongside strong vocal performances, the three manage to bring a depth to their characters, even in the fluffy opening scenes when all the girls care about is make-up, hair, and if the president getting shot will interfere with their football game. Lizzy Connolly is hilarious as the naive and often gloriously tactless Joanne; her champagne-fuelled antics bring some much-needed light relief to Act 2. Ashleigh Gray’s Kathy is wound so tight you feel she might snap at any moment, and her stunning performance of Cute Boys with Short Haircuts, a significant turning point for the character, is an emotional highlight. Finally, Lauren Samuels plays Mary, on paper the least sympathetic of the three, with a haunted vulnerability that constantly contradicts the abrasiveness of her words and actions.

Andrew Riley’s pastel-coloured set is another star attraction, allowing the action to continue flowing seamlessly despite the need for multiple costume changes. Unusually, these changes actually become quite enjoyable, and even exciting, because each time the girls emerge from their changing room, their choice of outfit and hairstyle gives us an initial glimpse into the direction their life’s taken in the intervening years.

Vanities is a fun and ultimately uplifting show, with an irresistible score that will get stuck in your head for days afterwards. And whatever your views on chick flicks, there’s no doubt that this production is a triumph – so while it might not change your life, it’ll certainly brighten it for a couple of hours.

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Review: Rotterdam at Trafalgar Studios

Published on July 29, 2016July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

Jon Brittain’s Rotterdam premiered at Theatre 503 in 2015 to critical acclaim, and now gets a well-deserved transfer to Trafalgar Studios. Directed by Donnacadh O’Briain, the play introduces us to Alice and Fiona, an English couple living in the Dutch port of Rotterdam. After seven years together, Alice is finally ready to come out to her parents back home, when Fiona announces that she identifies as a man, and wants to begin living as Adrian. Which leaves a shell-shocked Alice questioning whether he’s still the same person she fell in love with – and if she stays with him, does that mean she’s now straight?

It’s a fascinating premise and forces both characters and audience to consider the labels we place on ourselves and others. But far from being heavy-going, Rotterdam is a warm and surprisingly funny play – expect to laugh, a lot, often at unexpected moments. Take tissues too, though, because it’s not by any means always an easy ride, and there are some incredibly powerful scenes in Act 2, as the impact of Adrian’s decision begins to be felt by both partners and those around them. And in the intimate setting of Trafalgar Studios, with the audience seated on three sides of Ellan Parry’s set, these emotions feel even more intense than they did first time around. With the actors only inches away – I was sitting so close to Alice as the play began that if I’d wanted to I could have read the email she was nervously drafting to her parents – Rotterdam feels less like a play and more like we’ve stumbled into the couple’s flat to intrude on some very private moments.

The original cast of four transfer with the production. Ed Eales-White provides comic relief, but also a voice of reason, as Alice’s affable ex Josh. It’s impossible not to like Josh, whose support is constant and unconditional, no matter what it costs him. Jessica Clark’s plain-speaking free spirit Lelani is great fun and more than a little bonkers, but with a touching vulnerability we only get to see in the play’s dying moments (and even then her exit line still gets one of the biggest laughs of the night).

But the show’s most powerful performances come from Alice McCarthy and Anna Martine. As Alice, McCarthy captures both the humour of the repressed Brit struggling to process emotions and experiences way out of her comfort zone, and the devastation of a lover whose world’s been turned upside down by forces out of her control. Anna Martine plays two roles in one, and her transition from Fiona to Adrian is exquisitely handled; as Alice herself points out at one point, her partner changes just enough to become someone different, but not enough for her to forget the person she knew. It’s a tricky balance to find, but Martine nails it and in doing so, manages to ensure we care just as much about Adrian in Act 2 as we did about Fiona in Act 1.

Aside from one scene in the pub that starts to feel a bit like a lesson in transgender terminology, Brittain doesn’t try to preach, or to tell us who’s right or wrong. Both Alice and Adrian have faults, and both at times handle the situation disastrously – but that’s far more believable than the alternative, and the play is all the more powerful for its honesty, however uncomfortable that honesty may be to watch.

Rotterdam is great entertainment, but it’s far more than that, of course; it’s the launch pad for an important discussion about the fluidity of gender and sexuality, and the nature of relationships in general – not just with lovers, but with friends and family too. (It’s particularly interesting to consider how the story might have been different had the characters been in the UK instead of far from home.) Stunning performances of a fantastic script make this a must-see production.

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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… 😉