Carly Caller steals the show as Carabosse. Her high-octane performance would give many a professional a run for her/his money. She has a very powerful but well-modulated singing voice with impressive control over sustained notes. She looks terrific in bright green with shiny bits and, an accomplished actor, she oozes stage presence. In Ben Crocker’s version of Sleeping Beauty she is always flanked by her cat, Spindleshanks: Megan Chapman, who also turns out a fine performance with lots of petulant insubordination. The two work exceptionally well together.

Used as we are now to gender-blind casting this was the first time I’ve seen a woman cast as a pantomime dame. As Queen Dotty, Marianna Allen’s scene miming The Flight of the Bumble Bee by Nicholai Ripyourcorsetsoff at the piano which concludes with her swatting a bee and saying “B flat” is both funny and original. On the whole, though the humour in this show is a bit laboured with too many punchlines thrown away as it lumbers from a lacklustre opening through set pieces such as slosh and ghost scenes all the way to the pre-finale singsong which is, of course, Baby Shark – apparently compulsory for this season’s pantos.

As Princess Aurora, Rachael Heard sings with conviction and musiciality and she looks suitably pretty and innocent. Arguably she’s a bit underused. Also noteworthy are Tonia Plowman who gives us an appealing, feisty Fairy Peaceful and Laura Stoneman as Billy who seems wooden at the beginning but warms later especially in the rather better second half.

As always with GDS the stalwart ensemble, including six children, works hard (choreography by Emma Constantine) and there’s a good sound coming from the three-piece live band which sits just in a corner below stage right.

★★★

Following the success of last year’s monologue programme, comes Chickenshed’s new set of seven monologues which, together make a varied, interesting and impressively diverse evening of theatre.

This year, according to the company’s Artistic Director, Lou Stein, the mixed panel of Chickenshed members received a wide range of submissions from which these seven were chosen – and they were submitted ‘blind’ in the interests of fairness. The final selection takes us from pregnancy to prison and from dystopia to a hostel.

The strongest and most arresting of the seven both happen to be performed by their writers. Stranger by Alesha Bhakoo, a stonkingly good actor, explores the experience of being a second generation immigrant. Her character feels British and banters with British colleagues except that she is, in a sense different. Bhakoo has a very effective voice and a splendid sense of timing – and she takes the whole audience by surprise at the end when she turns on the houselights and pretends to come out of character. Directed by Millie Rolle, it’s an outstanding performance.

So is Milly Rolle’s own enactment of her own My Universe Exploding. Her character is newly pregnant and reflecting on the extraordinary development inside her. It’s a very sparky script with some very frank humour although the underlying questioning and reflections are deadly serious. Rolle, who has a splendidly expressive face which she uses well, is a pretty electrifying actor to watch. This monologue is directed by Tiia-Mari Makinen,

Also moving and compelling is Keiran Faye in We Are All In It Together by Peter Hastings, directed by Rachel Yates, assisted by Ashley Driver. The character is depicting life in a prison cell when you’re in for “white collar crime” and it’s graphically, movingly redolent of first hand experience. I rather liked Barbara Bakhurst’s The Hostel Angel too with Sophie White (directed by Grace Coulson-Harris) as a sad teenager trying hard to be positive while her mentally ill mother is elsewhere and she and her stepfather are in a hostel.

New writing is the life blood of living and lively theatre and monolog 2 is a fine way of celebrating it although there are some presentational problems. The venue is the shed in Chickenshed’s grounds which accommodates maybe 30 people. Used as a classroom during the day, it is warm, intimate, nicely contained and in many ways very suitable for work of this sort.

Unfortunately, though, you cannot see, other than from the front row, what any actor is doing if he or she moves to the ground or even bends over. Moreover there is no sound proofing. Traffic roars past continuously and you can often hear voices outside as people walk the nearby pavement all of which is a bit distracting.

First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Chickenshed-monolog%202%20-%20%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85&reviewsID=3487

★★★

Abdridged by Imogen Bond and Nathan Powell (who also directs) to 90 minutes without interval, this very decent Macbeth is part of Orange Tree Theatre’s Shakespeare Up Close initiative. It is aimed directly at a younger audience and it was a delight to see it, on the first day of half term, alongside lots of families and young people of various ages. After this week it will tour secondary schools and be seem by 4,000 students.

It uses a company of five actors plus a ‘DJ’ (Conrad Kira) who takes minor speaking parts as well as managing the sound track he has designed. The sound is arresting, evocative and atmospheric complete with appropriate weird shrieks, menacing whines and grating sound which connotes mental breakdown. It’s impressive work.

There are some nice imaginative directorial touches. Malcolm speaks to Donalbain on his phone (who needs a full company of actors?) and one of the guests phone-films Macbeth’s horror at the appearance of Banquo’s ghost. And although I’ve probably seen more productions of Macbeth than of any other play and taught it to thousands of English Literature students, it had never occurred to me before that you don’t actually need the Macduff family murder scene which Bond and Powell cut. Macbeth announces that he’s going to do it and we see Macduff’s reaction to the news that his entire household has been massacred – so there it is firmly in the plot without enactment. I also liked the concept of four cast members standing in the corners of the playing area each proffering a dagger by its handle, but withholding it, during the “Is this a dagger I see before me?” speech.

Montel Douglas is outstanding as McDuff getting the anger and anguish just right and Marc Benga’s Macbeth does well in suggesting that he really is possessed. He holds his head and moans very plausibly. He’s also strong in the early scenes with Lady Macbeth (Tamara Camacho). The witches here become curious creatures of the street complete with a shopping trolley full of nasty things. Their act IV prophecy scene is scarily effective.

So it’s a Macbeth with a lot to commend it although I felt that more attention could have been paid to verse speaking. Presumably in an attempt to engage the Netflix generation a lot of the dialogue is a bit gabbled. Of course it shouldn’t be declamatory or reverential but neither should it be so rushed that it sounds breathy and thrown away.

Photo: Ali Wright

★★★★

Given the justifiable concern about rising mental health issues even amongst primary school children, this thoughtful, tender show could hardly be more timely.

Prince Charming, beautifully puppeted by Nix Wood has refused to get out of bed or leave his bedroom for weeks. A grown up (Giulia Innocenti) – we, like Prince Charming, wrongly assume for a long time that she’s a royal courtier – tries to coax him out. His problem is that he’s worried about nearly everything. He’s afraid of the dark, terrified he’ll be struck by lightning or sucked into quicksand and anxious about the Bermuda Triangle – among other things. It’s a classic presentation of irrational and sometime crippling fear and the depression it causes. There will be children in every audience who recognise and identify with it.

Jenny Worton’s sensitively written script sees Prince Charming – who doesn’t want to fight dragons and is disillusioned with the requirement to rescue princesses – gradually helped, largely by the power of imagination to banish his demons. The piece also explores the dangers of stereotyping and how destructive it can be for children who feel they have to act up to some image of themselves, often imposed on them by others.

The voicework in this, often amusing, two hander is excellent and there are some good songs. Wood ensures that Prince Charming is, variously petulant, fightened, assertive and, gradually, stronger mentally. And you can hear it all in her voice. Innocenti, much larger, than the puppet of course, uses her voice well too as she pleads and leads him into a better mental state via a lovely beach fantasy where Prince Charming learns that he can do almost anything he’s determined enough to do.

Directed by Ross MacKay who also designed it, this show has an imaginative set based on semi-cylindrical blocks which eventually come together to form hints of castle turrets.

It’s enjoyable theatre with has a great deal to say to 6-11 year olds that they need, really need, to hear. They are not alone. “I’m not special when it comes to worry” is the last, very powerful song. And it’s all done without a shred of sanctimonious worthiness.

Photo: Ellie Kurttz

First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Little%20Angel%20Theatre-Prince%20charming%20-%20%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85&reviewsID=3483

★★★★

Although slightly disjointed in the first half hour or so, James Saunders’s 1977 play is an arresting piece undeserving of the obscurity in which it has languished for most of the last forty years.

In the first act we meet two middle class couples. Each of them speaks mostly to the audience rather than to each other and we gradually learn that each is in the throes of an affair with the other’s spouse. And subliminally they all know what’s going on. The second act presents them all together, nine years later after a long break, at an initially awkward but then revelatory dinner party. The play is very good indeed at exploring group dynamics and Tricia Thorns’s direction carefully brings out every nuance.

All four are pleasing actors but Tim Welton as Mervyn is the star of the evening. Mervyn is a secondary English teacher, promoted to a headship by Act II. He postures, fulminates, persuades, shouts, pleads and says outrageous things. You can imagine him taking assembly. But he’s no stereotype. His pupil Simpson, is a key off-stage character whom we feel we come to know and understand through Welton’s long impassioned speeches. Mervyn gets steadily more drunk too which Welton handles with admirable skill and control. It’s a bravura performance and his is the character we feel most interested in.

There’s also some splendid work from Annabel Mullion as Mervyn’s wife, Anne. A very naturalistic actor, she presents a cool, rational woman as well as thwarted passionate one. The quality of her visible listening during the long periods in which she doesn’t speak is impressive.

Peter Prentice gives us a cold David especially after he and his wife Helen (Alix Dunmore – good) have sampled ‘The Therapy’ and been ‘cured’ of passionate excess – presented in the play as an alternative to the warmth of Ernest Dowson’s poetry to which Simpson has introduced the rather reluctant Mervyn. Yes, there are plenty of contrasts to reflect on here.

The other star of this show is Emily Stuart for her costumes. She perfectly captures that strange 1970s blend of elegance and excess. And as for the beautiful turquoise dress – big sleeves and ‘drape’ around a fitted waist worn by Mullion in Act 2 – where can I buy one?