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The Marriage of Alice B Toklas by Gertrude Stein (Susan Elkin reviews)

Show: The Marriage of Alice B Toklas by Gertrude Stei

Venue: Jermyn Street Theatre. 16b Jermyn Street, St. James’s, London SW1Y 6ST

Credits:  Edward Einhorn.

The Marriage of Alice B Toklas

Susan Elkin | 23 Mar 2022 12:35pm

All photos: Ali Wright

The whole point of this quirky, original play is that there wasn’t one: a marriage, that is. American writer and art collector, Gertrude Stein and Alice B Toklas were in a long relationship until the former’s premature death in 1946. Gertrude wrote an autobiography of Alice – pretending to be her. And pretending is what Einhorn’s four-hander play is about. He deliberately uses the word repeatedly – probably  hundreds of times – in a play which is firmly in the tradition of theatre of the absurd. And now that gay marriage is a non-event in most countries, Einhorn imagines how it could have been for Gertrude and Alice had the prevailing attitude been different between the wars. On a practical level, for example, spousal rights are important especially when one partner dies relatively young.

Four fine actors make this play work. Natasha Byrne is intensely dead pan as the usually serious Gertrude so that when she smiles it’s like the sun breaking though and she is one of the most eloquent listeners I have ever seen on stage. Alyssa Simon brings real depth to Alice, at first presenting a rather buttoned up but warm persona and then letting go and becoming impassioned in the second half – after everyone in the audience has been presented with a thimbleful of fizz to celebrate the marriage (Jewish, under a canopy).

Stein collected art and the couple moved in household name circles of art and literature. So Einhorn brings many of these characters to the wedding or at least gives them bit-parts. Kelly Burke, long, angular and bendy, plays Picasso who brings along all his wives and mistresses. Cue for a good French accent and many laughs. She also plays TS Eliot, Ezra Pound and others with witty versatility. Then there’s Mark Huckett as Hemingway who is deemed not to be a genius like Stein and most of her friends. Huckett, like Burke, leaps about and plays lots of characters. “And here is Hemmingway pretending to be …” is one of Gertrude’s oft repeated lines as the names of scenes are illuminated in picture frames on the back wall of Machiko Weston’s set.

It’s quite a powerful 90 mins of straight-through theatre because it has layers.  Although The Marriage of Alice B Toklas by Gertrude Stein is very funny, not least because there’s an element of theatre sending itself up, it’s also a rueful reflection on gay marriage. That sits alongside an exploration of the  nature of genius – with a sideways glance at the predicament of Jews during the lifetime of these women. It’s a celebration of lifelong love too and that’s always satisfying.

 First published by Sardines:  https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/the-marriage-of-alice-b-toklas/

There’s much to enjoy in ENO’s new production of Cosi fan tutte with Phelim McDemott in the director’s seat and Karem Hasan in charge in the pit.

The singing is faultless with especially strong performances from Benson Wilson as a fruity Guglielmo and Nardus Williams as a wistful but powerful Fiordilgi especially in her “Far Away a Man is Sighing” with horns doing lovely work beneath her. The famous Act 1 trio (Williams, Hanna Hipp as Dorabella and Neal Davies as Alfonso) is sung with show stopping passion.

As we were reminded by tenor Toby Spence before the show, Williams – like Wilson and Soraya Mafi as a fine Despina although she fails for sustain her accent – is an ENO Harewood artist. This is an excellent scheme which provides opportunities for trained young singers and ENO needs as much help as possible with funding it, which is what Spence was there to tell us.

I like Jeremy Sams’s translation which is often Gilbertishly witty: “I’ll sing you a sonnet. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll reflect upon it” sings Neal Davies chirpily for example. As always, though, I notice that English inflexions don’t always sit happily with the rise and fall of the music although I appreciate and respect ENO’s policy of staging all shows in English.

This take on Cosi sets it in a 1950s seaside motel – imagine the set for Bedroom Farce, revolving to suggest inside and outside and you’re almost there. Some scenes take place on what we used to call “the prom”. Tom Pye’s sets are grandiloquently impressive with carousel horses, swan pedaloes and illuminated encircling heart shaped arch ways. It’s all colourfully romantic.

Nearby is a circus complete with sword swallowers, fire eaters, acrobats and the rest. They are in effect a non singing ensemble (they do a lot of scene shifting) in addition to the chorus which, because this is Mozart, appears very little.

So what do the circus performers add to the opera? Not much. In fact they’re a distraction. If you put a spectacular tumbling and circus skills display centre stage during a key duet then no one in the audience is going to listen to the music. It’s an insult to the singers and seems to imply that the director doesn’t trust Mozart to deliver the goods without irrelevant visual trivia.

Even the overture is highjacked. We see the circus performers – including three people of unusual stature – emerging from a trunk racing about lining up placards to tell us what the opera is about. That means that the audience laughs and applauds over the music which is almost unnoticed. The line between being as accessible as possible and dumbing down is a fine one although I was delighted to see a number of children in the audience for the matinee I attended.

This performance is the first I’ve seen which began – appropriately – with the Ukrainian national anthem for which the entire audience stood. Sadly, I don’t suppose it will be the last.

First published by Lark Reviews: https://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?cat=3

There are two series of books I’ve always intended to read one day (unlike Lord of the Rings which I decided long ago I wasn’t going to trouble myself with.) One is Marcel Proust’s  A la Temps Perdu – roughly translated as In Search of Lost Time – and the other is Anthony Powell’s Dance to the Music of Time. Projects comfortably postponed to extreme old age when I might not be able to get out much? Perhaps not. When a dear friend was dying of cancer a few years ago she said: “You always think that when you get some hideous wasting disease you will read Proust and Powell  but then when it comes, the morphine means you can’t concentrate for five minutes so you don’t”.

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So with that thought in mind – and with my health and faculties happily intact –  I have now read the first novel in Powell’s opus magnum: A Question of Upbringing which was published in 1951.  As well as the obvious whiff of Brideshead, it reminds me of Jane Austen without most of the wit, spliced with CP Snow whose first novel in the Strangers and Brothers series was published, eleven years earlier in 1940 – and I have read all the latter several times because I wrote a college dissertation on Snow when I was 21.

Three young men: narrator Nicholas Jenkins, Peter Templer and Charles Stringham are at an Eton-like school in the 1920s where they try to avoid the strictures of the house, whose master is bloodless man named Le Bas. Also around is another boy Kenneth Widmerpool. Eventually Jenkins and Stringham “go up to the university” as entitlement to Oxford is referred to. They visit each other’s families, Jenkins spends one summer in France to improve his French and they are taken under the wing of a don named Sillery. Everyone knows everyone else in these privileged circles and it’s odd, I am writing this on the day when I heard comedian/actor/writer Katy Brand talking to Michael Berkley on Radio 3’s Private Passions. She said  that, going to Oxford in the 1990s from a comprehensive school she found this clubbiness based on long established ties quite hard to adjust to. And that was 40 years after the publication of this novel and 70 years after it was set. Is it different now?

The novel is really a comedy of manners in which people fence round each other especially where mothers, sisters and female companions are concerned. And as they’re sometimes staying in disparate groups in large houses waited on by servants it was that which reminded me of Jane Austen although her point of view is always waspishly feminine and Powell’s Jenkins is unapologetically male. The story about picking up two girls from the roadside in Templer’s car which he then crashes, for example, is all about men and their reactions.

It was the university lunches and political manoeuvring and manipulation which screamed CP Snow at me – such a closed world concerning itself obsessively with things which don’t in the scheme of things matter much although there’s romance in all those courtyards, stairways and shabby rooms. And I enjoyed Moffet, Stringham’s college servant, who insists on lining the latter’s ivory elephants up the wrong way.

I’m not sure whether I shall plough on with the other eleven novels in Dance to the Music of Time which span the rest of the century – I probably will at some point because I’m curious to see where it goes. Proust meanwhile is surging his way up my TBR list.

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Next week on Susan’s Bookshelves: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

Show: The Washing Line

Society: Chickenshed

Venue: Rayne Theatre, Chickenshed. Chase Side, Southgate, London N14 4PE

The Washing Line

4 stars

Jim Jones was a dangerously charismatic American clergyman who founded a commune called “People’s Temple” in California. He was unusual at the time for welcoming both black and white people and treating them as equals. As his operational methods gradually came under scrutiny Jones moved the whole operation to Guyana in 1977. In 1978 it was visited by an American congressman, Leo Ryan, who had questions to ask. Were, for instance, members allowed to leave? He and four of the people with him were shot dead at the airport as they left after which Jones ordered his followers to commit mass suicide. Over 900 people died including 300 children. People of a certain age will recall these events with the same incredulous  horror we felt at the time.

Well, it’s a brave subject for a musical show but Chickenshed has never shied away from difficult things. And it has a big theatrical advantage because it works with large numbers of members across its various activity levels and is used to managing a cast of hundreds. As we file into the spacious main space, configured in a vast horse-shoe which is not quite traverse and not quite in the round, we see dozens of “bodies” still, silent and everywhere you look – laid out like a washing line.

The piece, based on a 2017 Chickenshed Foundation Degree project, tells the story by shifting between 1978 (and earlier) and 2008 when survivors talked to television interviewers. Officials walk among the bodies trying in astonishment to work out what can possibly have happened – and we hear flies buzzing in the sound track which is chilling.

Jonny Morton finds all the revolting charm in Jones which convinces most of his followers that he is God and that they are living in paradise. He preaches, blesses his “children”, sings well  and looks the part in his purple robe over casual clothes. Gemilla Shamruk is strong as his supportive wife too – often acting as a conduit between the commune members and her drug taking, often ruthless, power-crazed husband.

Much of this story evolves in large scale balletic form and there are some fine dance scenes underpinned by music by Dave Carey – always rhythmic, often menacing and usually disturbing. I’m struck too by how many Chickenshed members are fine dancers who make lifts, used a lot in choreography by director Michael Bossisse and the team he works with, look utterly effortless and very dramatic. The big sung numbers – such as the People’s Temple Choir at the beginning of the second half – are vibrant too. And all of that is interspersed  and contrasted with quiet horror of the TV interviews thirty years later and the activities of shocked police and American officials at the time.

At the end we see several minutes of projected footage of the real People’s Temple in which members look positive and happy. Then there are shots of the bodies. It’s so sobering that applause at the end feels like an inappropriate response.

Chickenshed stands for inclusivity and diversity. And one of the many things I admire about it is the way in which cast members who need it are supported by the company with unobtrusive warmth – wheelchairs raced on and off, hands held and guided in dance for example. Yes, this really is theatre for everyone – there are no exceptions – which also achieves a professional standard and, in this case, forces you to think quite hard about cultism and that’s as topical now as it was in the 1970s.

First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/the-washing-line/

Sasha Regan’s All-Male H.M.S. Pinafore continues at Wilton’s Music Hall, London until 9 April 2022.

Star rating: four stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

I’m happy to report that this show, which I first saw at Cambridge Arts in 2016, is maturing well like fine wine or good cheese.

A riot of theatrical exuberance and creativity, it bears no resemblance to the staging that narrowly focused WS Gilbert insisted on but is pretty respectful of his words and of Arthur Sullivan’s music, although there have been some subtle key changes to accommodate the all-male cast.

We’re on a Second World War battleship and the set begins and ends with two sets of bunkbeds on castors which Sasha Regan re-imagines as boat rails, small vessels and lots of other things. The men – in their drill shorts and T-Shirts – are amusing themselves by “play acting” and using as props and costumes anything that happens to be around.

Meanwhile Lizzi Gee’s muscular choreography…

Read the rest of this review at Musical Theatre Reviewhttps://musicaltheatrereview.com/sasha-regans-all-male-h-m-s-pinafore-wiltons-music-hall/

Show: Howerd’s End

Society: West End & Fringe

Venue: THE JACK STUDIO THEATRE. 410 Brockley Road, London SE4 2DH

Credits: By Mark Farrelly. Directed by Joe Harmston.

Howerd’s End

4 stars

When I first saw this two-hander play eighteen months ago at the newly opened Golden Goose theatre in Camberwell, I said it deserved to get more performances. And now it’s getting them. Since then I’ve seen actor/playwright Mark Farrelly in three of his solo shows shows (one of them twice) and I’ve interviewed him so I now feel quite an affinity with his work which I didn’t have in October 2020.

The play is about Frankie Howerd (Simon Cartright) and his live-in manager/ chauffeur/ factotum Dennis Heymer. Howerd struggled with his obvious sexuality all his life and never came out as gay even after homosexuality was decriminalised in 1967. The two men were, of course, lovers in a tortured but passionate sort of way.

The structure of Farrelly’s play gives us Dennis, seventeen years after Howerd’s death showing a party round Wavering Down which was the latter’s Somerset home. Then Howerd (Simon Cartright – all the distinctive Howerd mannerisms deftly mastered) appears as a solid ghost to help retell the story of their life together – including Howerd’s infidelities, years in therapy, career dips and the use of LSD.

Farrelly’s Dennis is gritty but passionate, sardonically witty and skilfully nuanced. When he wants to, Farrelly can glitter with charisma and it’s very effective.  The scene in which the two men first meet at the Dorchester Hotel where Dennis is working as a “sommelier” (a self-deprecatingly posh word for a barman) is funny, for example. It’s full of raised eyebrows and innuendo as Howerd gropes for secrecy and discretion but Dennis is blunt.

This play is a love story. Both men have imperfections and hang ups but eventually, despite everything, Howerd admits – after many rows –  that he loves Dennis. Peace settles.  It’s deeply moving – and intelligent. This is thoughtful theatre for grown ups.

Howerd’s End has matured since I first saw it. There’s a little more playing to and with the audience (who are meant to be the party being shown round the house) than formerly and that works well. It tours easily too because the set is only a moveable fireplace, a rug, a painting, a chair and a small ottoman. Along, with Farelly’s other plays (the rest are solo shows) Howerd’s End is popping up in a number of small theatres this spring. Definitely worth seeing.

 First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/howerds-end-2/

Show: Something Old Something New – The Musical Theatre Review

Society: The MTA (student productions)

Venue: The Bridewell Theatre, London

Credits: Directed by Jack Gunn, featuring the choreography of MTA’s West End faculty.

Something Old Something New

4 stars

 

Directed by Lucie Pankhurst

The annual revue presented by MTA (Musical Theatre Academy) is always a treat and this year was no exception although, of course, this is the first time it has happened live for a while. It is such a good idea to present a slickly directed revue with a wide range of material featuring every student in both first and second years of this two year accelerated course because it acts as a better showcase than any conventional “showcase”. I’ve often wondered why every performing arts school doesn’t do this.

This year’s show featured fifteen second years and seven second years. The latter group  did an ensemble number (Paradise by the Dashboard Light from Bat Out Of Hell) competently, provided backing for some of the other work and took part in the full company numbers. It struck me for the first time this year that their presence and inclusion is a fine advertisement for the college in more than one way. They show, first, just how skilful MTA is at spotting potential. And when they appear alongside second years you can see very clearly the massive progress these students make in just two years. The training they’re getting is self-evidently outstanding.

The show includes a wide range of material ranging from extracts from Annie, Sweet Charity and Merrily we Roll Along to Everybody’s Talking About Jamie and Dust and Embers. Something Old Something New – as advertised.

Lucie Pankhurst, who directs and choregraphs this show (with a handful of numbers choreographed by others) ensures that one number segues seamlessly from the one before, using every inch of Bridewell Theatre’s big playing area. The company operates with near-military slickness so that the show never even pauses for breath – except that it had to at the performance I saw when there was an issue with lighting and everything stopped for 15 minutes while staff decided what to do. It is a tribute to the professionalism of the company that they took this totally in their stride – repeated one number and then simply carried on with the show.

In a company with so much eclectic, vibrant talent it seems a bit unfair to single out individuals but with the caveat that every single participant does an excellent job, I’m going to.

Lou Henry lights up the stage every time she appears in numbers such as There Must Be Something Better Than This (with Emily Tang and Pia Wabs). She is totally convincing in her acting and her singing is sublime. No wonder she is given an impassioned. moving solo slot: Someone Who Could Be Loved.

Emily Tang has a rich singing voice especially in the lower registers. She is also accomplished with accents and has oodles of attractive stage personality. So does Amy Lockwood, whose huge presence (I loved her StepSisters’ Lament from Cinderella with Rowan Kitchen) is out of all proportion to her diminutive size – if she wants to, among other opportunities, she’ll be able to play feisty children in dramas for many years to come.

Blaine Gosling sings with rich warmth and musicality. He could sing opera if he wished – perhaps he has. And watch out for Kaidyn Niall Hinds whose lithe, charismatic dancing is likely to further his career.

Finally, what a joy it is to see a student show like this accompanied by a fine six-piece (yes six!) live band, led by college founder/principal Annemarie Lewis Thomas on keys who has also done all the musical arrangements. They make a terrific sound, tucked away on a balcony above the stage, and I’m certain that their presence is part of the reason for the high standard the college gets from its students.

First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/something-old-something-new/

It was my A level geography teacher, Miss Diana Raine, who told me to read the novels of Neville Shute (1899-1960). We were studying Australia as our detailed regional study and Shute’s novels, she said, would give us the flavour of the climate and geography. Well, I’ve always been a sucker for fiction recommendations because they lead to exciting new experiences not to mention being the easiest way in the world of soaking up information effortlessly.  So I cheerfully embarked on A Town Like Alice (1950)  – one of my favourite books of all time – and then the rest of his oeuvre.

Of course they’re not all set in Australia  but that’s where he, an Englishman, settled after working on the development of secret weapons during Second World War. A chance remark from one of my string quartet friends recently reminded me  that I hadn’t reread any Shute for a while so I went back to his list where I alighted on Pied Piper (1942). I thought I had read all of Shute but this rang no bells  so I think I must, somehow have missed it all those years ago when I was going through my Shute-gobbling phase.

John Howard is retired widower who takes an unwise fishing tip to France in 1942 as he has done many times before. Invading forces begin to close in and the journey home looks increasingly difficult. Reluctantly he agrees to take with him two British children whose father works in Geneva because their parents are anxious about the immediate future. He sets off on a hazardous, obstacle-strewn trip through France, eventually in a German occupied area. It has all the traditional elements of a quest story.  On the way – each story and situation is different –  he somehow acquires four more children and the support of a young woman with whom he turns out to have more of a connection than he first realised.

It’s an affirmative, very readable, story of triumph against all odds. And of course – like Ian Seraillier’s The Silver Sword which I wrote about here recently – it’s more topical than ever. On the day that I’m drafting this the British Government is trying to find ways of admitting more Ukrainian refugees, all of them women and children. It’s also promising to support a hosting scheme so that British families can offer refuge to these people. Same old tragic issues. History goes on repeating itself.

Pied Piper also declares that – praise be – you can still achieve good things when you’re over 70. It’s an indication of how attitudes to ageing, and life expectancy, have changed since 1942 that Shute frequently refers to Howard as “The old man” and stresses his tiredness and fragility. I tried not to wince while reminding myself that that’s how it was 80 years ago.

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Next week on Susan’s Bookshelves: A Question of Upbringing by Anthony Powell