All photos: Helen Murray

The combination of Dzifa Benson’s abridgement/adapation, Miranda Cromwell’s direction and – I infer – a great deal of intelligent cast workshopping has resulted in a very thoughtful, contemporary take on Othello.

We’re in a nightclub or outside it. Screens are manually moved to change the space with a lot of play on shadows and light playing through the screens. Rennell Shaw’s sound design at times provides music to dance to. At others the dance is aurally so distant that all we hear is a menacing drum beat adding tension to the dialogue it sits beneath.

Did I say dialogue? It’s very clever. Benson has got one of Shakespeare’s longer tragedies down to a nifty 90 minutes without cutting anything important. Most of the words are Shakespeare’s but they’re often intercut with a modern phrase. Several times, for instant, she pops in the word “fu**ing” which really makes it sound as it these people are arguing in a 2021 Manchester night club.

Yes, we’ve seen a female Othello before but not very often so casting Francesca Amewudah-Rivers feels pretty fresh. She has all the right confident gravitas at the beginning and then – manipulated by Iago (Connor Crawford and repugnantly good in the role) – she falls apart very effectively as she is consumed first by jealousy and then by remorse.

Amongst a generally strong cast I was also especially impressed by Julia Kass as Emilia – at first agreeing to do what Iago tells her and then realising the horror that she has caused and explaining. Her control as she becomes more and more impassioned is both convincing and noteworthy. And Adeola Yemitan’s spikey movement work and singing is so charismatically fascinating that it is almost a distraction.

The other really distinctive feature about this production is the imaginative chorus work. Several actors are on the stage in the background as an ensemble much of the time. When, for example, Othello is deeply troubled they become the voices in her head.

This Othello is the most radically reimagined I’ve seem since I saw the one at Intermission Theatre several years ago. And it works – especially as we emerge from the pandemdic still trying to confront issues of racism and abuse. The topicality is remarkable. It was also a treat to go the NYT’s newly refurbished premises on the Holloway Road and experience its new onsite theatre.

All photos: Bonnie Britain.

Billed as a concert but with a definite party vibe, this show does exactly what is says on the tin. Seven Big Names plus an ensemble of six energetic, elastic-bodied dancers and three backing singers give us lots of musical theatre hits in different moods and it’s fun to be there. It’s also a treat to hear a fine, five-piece band, live band led by MD Chris Hatt. And they sit upstage in full view too which I approve of.

It’s been in the melting pot for a while because this show was originally planned as a Christmas celebration and then pulled by government edict at two days’ notice. Producers Shanay Holmes and her husband Chris Steward have obviously worked hard to revive it – a fairly low budget enterprise, one presumes, since the cast list is relatively small and there is no set although the lights flashing past on the Harry Potter gothic arches and beams are rather effective.

Holmes herself holds the show together as compere and sings several numbers. I liked her gentle opener followed by a joyful all-singing, all-dancing account of You Can’t Stop the Beat from Hairspray. That was one of several numbers which had clearly been chosen for its message: theatre cannot be held down. We’re back. Alice Fearn with a spirited account of They Just Keep Moving the Line is another rather more rueful example along with Sophie Evans’s Somewhere over the Rainbow although the latter seemed a bit forced in the way it crescendoed to full belt.

Trevor Dion Nicholas pleases with a Genie number from Aladdin and his Suddenly Seymour (Little Shop of Horrors) duet with Sophie Evans is good as was Ben Foster’s beautifully lyrical account of Music of the Night (The Phantom of the Opera) Foster’s dynamic control is remarkable.

In many ways, though the star of this show is Layton Williams and his extraordinary lithe, rippling brown body which he flaunts deliciously. It must drive every gay man in the room bonkers. His colourful movement work and that seductive singing is unforgettable. I can’t decide whether it’s sexy musicality or musical sexuality. Maybe in Williams’s case it’s both and that’s why he is such a glittering stage presence.

Personally I could have done without the long, very loud finale which encourages the audience to stand up and shout so that we can neither see nor hear the performers. And I do wish Holmes would learn a few more adjectives. I lost count of the number of times she said “incredible”. Nonetheless this is a commendable show full of genuine joy.

Julia Donaldson’s story (in case you’re not on story sharing terms with any tinies) tells of a scruffy giant who is furnished with smart new clothes which, step by step, he gives away to others in need. Thus, 45 minutes later he’s the kindest giant in town rather than the smartest.

This is a sweet and engaging account – as respectful both to Donaldson’s story and Axel Scheffler’s illustrations as it has to be because it’s probably familiar to every pre-schooler in the room.

Barb Jungr’s lilting, complementary music adds an extra dimension complete with harmonies nicely managed by Lizzie Wort, Gilbert Taylor and the giant Duane Gooden clad in a massive head-encompassing mask which must be very hot to work in.

The best song is cumulative and a causer of earworms thanks to the deceptive simplicity of Donaldson’s rhymes and Jungr’s near one note melody. I left singing “My tie’s a scarf for a cold giraffe”, “My belt helped a dog who was crossing a bog” and more.

Because this is a Little Angel production (in its relatively spacious, airy studio theatre rather than the main house) the puppetry is very charming. There’s a particularly appealing sequence with a family of mice whose house has burned down.

Wort and Gilbert both contribute excellent voice work and lots of smiles when they’re acting as human beings rather than puppeteers.

Main Image: National Youth Theatre’s co-production of Animal Farm with Royal & Derngate, Northampton. Photo: Ali Wright

It’s at times like this that I wish the word “brilliant” weren’t so overused and devalued because that’s literally and exactly what the National Youth Theatre’s take on Orwell’s 1945 novel is. It glitters, shines and beams with sheer quality and excellence.

Very clearly reimagined as muscular, vibrant, ensemble-based physical theatre we start with a mock pathe news item (immaculately voiced by Will Stewart who also does a simpering, comfort-loving pragmatic Mollie) which introduces each character.

Then we’re into the timeless story about the all-too-familiar rebellion, power and corruption cycle. Orwell meant the Russian Revolution, Lenin, Trotsky and Stalin but the moral applies to dozens of situations and regimes. And watching, on the edge of my seat, the unfolding of this tale in this version I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to pick up nuances about the dangers of blindly following political leaders without asking questions – or of believing relentless propaganda. It’s all around us.  Apart, though from the addition of a few extra characters, Tatty Hennessy’s script follows Orwell pretty closely.

Every single member of this ensemble is so charismatically and rivetingly watchable that’s it’s almost insidious to pick any out. However I must commend Adeola Yemitan for a thoughtful, troubled Clover a brood mare who represents the intelligent but illiterate “ordinary” wo/man and Nkhanise Phirl is deeply moving as Clara the hen who is forced to give up her eggs – we really feel her distraught agony. I loved James-Eden Hutchinson as Milo, a pigeon who offers occasional, insouciant, disinterested commentary from the top of a ladder and Connor Crawford (whom I reviewed as Iago in Othello earlier in the week) has all the makings of a fine character actor – swaggering about in a fat suit as both farmers and then doing a nice cameo as a pig which sings propaganda songs. Will Atiomo delights as Boxer, the stalwart worker who asks simple honest questions and whose ending is both tragic and traumatic. No wonder so many National Youth Theatre Rep company members sail into professional work immediately.

Image: Jennie Jacobs & Catrine Kirkman. Photo: Bill Knight

Some things are timeless. It’s astonishing how few changes you need to make to WS Gilbert’s Iolanthe words to make it hilariously topical. Turn Strephon into a parliamentary groundsman, Willis into a parliamentary librarian, slip in a few Brexit references and you’re away. It’s a lovely touch too, intentional or not, for Earl Tolloller (David Menezes) look like a cross between Michael Gove and Dominic Cummings and for Earl Mountararat (Matthew Siveter) look like John Cleese playing Enoch Powell. Yes, director John Savourin and the Charles Court Opera Company know how to make G&S sing in every sense.

There are huge advantages to having a cast of only nine. It allows you to hear every single harmony and every word. Clarity is what drives this entertaining production. Choruses originally intended for quite large groups  become, with a bit of re-arrangement, quartets or trios and the whole thing feels focused and fresh. Energetic, well choreographed (by Jo Meredith) movement adds a lot too.

Natalie Davis has a wine-dark old fashioned contralto voice which exactly what the Fairy Queen needs. Llio Evans is good value as the outraged, pragmatic Phyllis looking, in jodpurs and hacking jacket like a young Camilla Parker Bowles. And of course, Richard Suart has been performing this material for a a very long time so he knows exactly how to squeeze every naughty nuance out of the Lord Chancellor. He also has the wisdom (ably supported by MD David Eaton on keyboard) to sing his famous numbers at speeds which allow each word the space it needs.

Hats off to the cast for cheerfully continuing on a relentlessly wet night. They stopped ten minutes in so that the stage management team could cover the set and the fairies don ponchos. Thereafter most of the company sang under umbrellas with surprisingly few wonky notes and fluffs. No wonder the Italians laugh at us … but there’s much to be said for the indomitable British spirit. And it was great fun. It takes more than a two hour downpour to dampen the exuberance of G&S done well.