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It’s a play not a funeral

Fashion models are, I presume, trained to look as sour as possible on the catwalk. They stomp about looking as if they’re attending a funeral which they really don’t want to be at. I have long thought that the clothes they’re modelling would look considerably better if the wearers looked as if they actually liked wearing them.

Well I think some theatre critics have somehow got into the same mindset. I often see top “A team” critics looking miserably impassive as if they’d rather be anywhere but in the theatre. Is there some code of practice that I’m not party to which requires you never to smile, laugh or applaud because you’re a critic?

If there is, I’m not going down that route – ever. Even if I’m at a show I really don’t like and of course that often happens. I always remind myself that a number of people have worked very hard on it. It’s their baby and it deserves respect. So I allow myself to respond. I laugh at the jokes if it’s appropriate and I clap as and when it feels courteous. Just because I’m a critic who will go home at the end of the show and – if necessary – write a condemnation of the production I don’t have to sit there like the gloomy spectre at the feast.

In a big proscenium arch setting the cast are unlikely to be able to see the critics but in smaller scale in-the-round venues they can.  How off-putting and dispiriting it must be if you’re sweating your socks off to give this show, that you’ve been working on for several weeks, all you’ve got if you can see two or three national newspaper critics looking po-faced as if they would rather be anywhere other than where they are. Not only is it churlish it’s also rude. Yes I know some of them see half a dozen shows a week but I often do that too. If a person is fed up with reviewing then perhaps it’s time to move on?

I was at Orange Tree Theatre for The Double Dealer last week and on press night actor Oliver Ford Davis was at the front of the in-the-round audience. At right-angles to him and a few seats away were actor Jane Wymark and her husband. All three were smiling and responding in a natural way which must have been an encouragement to the cast. There is no reason why theatre critics couldn’t be similarly relaxed although, personally, I always avoid those front row seats because it must be distracting for actors to see someone making notes so close to the action.

So please, guys, practise unbending a little. Let’s hope the fashion industry is listening too.

To be clear at the outset, I am not Susan!  Regular readers will know me as one of the two sons, father of GDs 1 and 2. I’ve packed her off with her violin case, her Schubert scores and her sister for some much-needed respite, and I’ve moved in to look after Nick for a week.

As a family we’ve always had eclectic interests, none shared by all of us. For example, we are two tea drinkers and two coffee drinkers; one classic car enthusiast, one motorcyclist and two who couldn’t care less; three are happy at a classical concert, the other prefers Johnny Cash.

One thing that unites the Elkin men (often described in exasperated terms by the temporarily abandoned Elkin woman as “a load of balls”) is the game of snooker. As well as being avid watchers, we visited Sheffield every year for the World Championship semi-finals until Nick was no longer well enough to make the trip.

Watching this year’s UK Open on the television with him (having first insisted that they replace their ancient, tiny portable with a decent HD set, so we can actually see it) I’m struck by how closely the game imitates life.

Every frame starts with the balls laid out in an identical pattern: a blank canvas, from which any permutation or direction is possible – and which nobody knows at the outset. There then often follows a period of tactical play – the hard work of the frame, where players seek to make the very best of the opportunities they’re presented with. Then there’s usually a chance to score well in a run to winning the frame, an achievement marked, a moment of both personal and shared satisfaction.

Life, of course, is a one-frame shoot-out, and when it doesn’t work as anticipated you find yourself on the way to a rapid loss. This, I reflect, is the position Nick is in now, as I help him with his socks or his shower whilst nudging his ailing brain towards solid safety play when I sense it’s about to attempt some sort of wild trick-shot.

Coming up to 1:00pm, time for the start of the quarter-finals. I wonder how things are going to play out?….

Lucas Elkin

 

 

‘This the season to be jolly. And I saw and reviewed my first four Christmas productions last week: Evolution Pantomimes’s Cinderella at Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury, Plaid Tidings at Bridge House Theatre, SE20, A Christmas Carol at Chickenshed (image above) and The Night Before Christmas at Southwark Playhouse. The previous week took in The Wind in the Willows at Polka theatre too – all worthwhile shows in their very different ways.

I really like this time of year because if Christmas is about anything at all it’s about children and families and it gives me a lot of pleasure to see families out together enjoying themselves. This year – and I don’t often manage this – I have one of my grandchildren (the youngest) coming with me and her parents to see Sleeping Beauty at The Capitol, Horsham later this month. I review in a different way if I’ve had a child with me during the show. It changes my perspective.

I also like the variety. Pantomimes are Ok in their way and do the industry a huge service. They provide masses of seasonal work which sustains many an actor through much of the year. Often they offer a first professional job opportunity too, They are also, for many young audience members, a first experience of live theatre – good news from every point of view.

I’ve never been a fully committed Panto Person though despite having seen hundreds and hundreds of them in the last 20 years or so. Even as a child I used to sit there wishing that they’d stop the silly digressions and get on with the story. That’s probably why, to this day, it’s the story-driven Christmas shows which really work best  for me.

This year, for the first time in decades, I decided that I’d choose my own Christmas shows and arrange to review them rather than waiting for editors to impose them on me. And I’m having a lovely December so far: two A Christmas Carols, two stabs at The Wind in the Willows, a non-panto Peter Pan, a Nutcracker and lots of other seasonal delights still to look forward to.

Meanwhile I wish a very merry Christmas to all hardworking performers who are working flat out this month. Ben Roddy, Canterbury’s regular dame and an Ugly Sister this year, let slip during the show that it’s doing 93 performances.  Bravo to him, his colleagues everywhere and the extraordinary stamina they have.p

Lloyd Hollett and Ben Roddy in the 2018 Cinderella at Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury.

 

It seems that Ms Alzheimer’s was a bit lonely in our house. So she’s brought a few friends along to jolly us all up. Or to put it another way, My Loved One doesn’t, apparently, have plain old Alzheimer’s disease. It’s more complex than that.

For some time I’ve been puzzled by the range of symptoms he now has. Things like shuffling gait, dizziness, tremor, unsteadiness on stairs and bladder and bowel problems are not standard Alzheimer’s fare in most cases. Well, of course, I’m a journalist and a compulsive researcher so naturally I went in search of information. It’s what I’m programmed to do.

I concluded that he might – just might – have a different form of dementia such as Dementia with Lewy Bodies (DLB) which affects 100,000 people in the UK as opposed to 650,000 with Alzheimer’s. I agonised long and hard about what to do with the information because, if I’m right, then maybe a different sort of medication might ease some of the symptoms. A bit. For a while. Perhaps. On the other hand who am I to challenge an NHS diagnosis?

In the end, encouraged by our sons who said that if I didn’t do it I might always regret it, I cut through all the red tape and emailed our consultant as tactfully and politely as I know how. Of course you’re not supposed to do that. You’re meant to go through your GP into whose care we were discharged last year. But Dr V, the consultant, for whom I have enormous respect, treats me like a fellow professional and – I think it was in connection with these blogs and the circulation of information – gave me her email address.

Within two hours of my hitting “send” I had her secretary on the phone to make us an appointment. See why I like and respect Dr V so much? Said appointment took place last week.

We were there for a long time and she said several times that she, like everyone who knows MLO, can see a marked deterioration. We discussed the symptoms at length. Her opinion is that he probably has “mixed dementia”. That means that instead of confining himself to Alzheimer’s he also has the symptoms of other dementia-related conditions such as vascular dementia, Parkinsons dementia and DLB. We don’t do things by halves in this family do we?

This is, by the way, simply her informed opinion. Medics can’t be absolutely sure about different sorts of dementia until they can do a post-mortem – which might eventually be of interest to medical science but doesn’t help us much in the here and now.

Meanwhile is there anything at all which can be done about the worsening symptoms some of which are becoming really very difficult? Well it’s clutching at straws but we have to consider anything which might improve quality of life however marginally. At Dr V’s suggestion, therefore, we are going to see a neurologist who may want more scans and tests and who may then prescribe Parkinson’s medication to ease some of the motor problems.

All of that, obviously, is hedged about with ifs, buts and maybes. And naturally we have to go through the clumsy, juggernaut NHS system which means Dr V writes to the GP who contacts the neurologist whose department then sends an appointment (almost certainly at a time when we’re away or I’m working) via snail mail. I will never understand why you can’t phone and book an appointment with the person you need to see as you would the vet, hairdresser or dentist. It probably means it will be well into the new year before we get anywhere but we’ll see.

And while all this is happening – life’s rich tapestry – cognitive decline continues at helter-skelter speed. In the last week I’ve variously been told we’re on a refugee boat, that we’re firefighters and that, mysteriously, I must deal with the benchmarks. One of the carers tried to play Scrabble with him and found that he couldn’t do it at all – which didn’t surprise me because I’ve noticed that his writing and spelling is rapidly going awol. I’ve suggested she try Sorry! next time but I’m not holding my breath that he’ll be able to manage that either. He’s reading much less too as retention goes.

By the time you read this I shall be away for a four day residential music course learning to play (or something) the wonderful Schubert Quintet in C Major. Our elder son – what a hero! – is on man-sitting duties during my absence so it will a respite for me which I’m beginning to feel I need pretty urgently. Apart from anything else it will be the height of luxury to be able to rest all night undisturbed. And I don’t feel remotely guilty about that because I am, after all, returning to the helm at the end of the week.

A slightly less populist concert than MSO often presents, we began with Kodaly’s Dances of Galanta. Brian Wright observed in his introduction that the concert’s three works all have folk themes and origins. That was very clear in the opener which the orchestra played, after a rather exposed shaky start, with rich vibrancy. The fast and furious string work and the flute solos were especially noteworthy.

Gordon Jacobs’s 1955 trombone concerto may not be a great work (somewhere between Eric Coates and Vaughan-Williams on an off day with an awful lot of predictable arpeggios) but it’s a rare treat to see the trombone take centre stage. It was also delightful to see the grown up Peter Moore back in Maidstone to play it. In 2008 he was the youngest ever winner of the BBC Young Musician of the Year and played with MSO soon after. Still looking barely old enough to have left school, Moore found lyrical clarity in every note during a thoughtful performance which demanded to be listened to very attentively.  And the Sarabande by Bach which he played as an encore was stunningly beautiful.

And so to a Mahler marathon. His long first symphony is very demanding and it was played here with unflagging energy. Personally I’ve always found the opening indecisive, disparate and wishy-washy with its cuckoo-ing woodwind and offstage brass but Wright held it together competently. There was some elegant playing in the second movement including nice string glissandi in the trio.

The third movement is, of course, one of Mahler’s best. Jasmine Otaki played the double bass solo – the memorable minor key Frere Jacques theme which dominates the movement – with real mystery. We heard MSO at its best here, as other instruments and sections gradually picked up the theme and intensified the texture. The contrasting Klezmer-like section led by the brass with percussive col legno from the violins was excellent too.

The final movement is momentously manic in nature and calls for much intensity. That is not to say it should let rip and in places this performance sounded less controlled than it needs to be although I really liked the grandiloquence achieved by the brass section.

It’s a symphony which batters its listeners and demands enormous stamina from its players. No wonder Brian Wright looked exhausted at the end.

http://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?cat=3

On a personal level this was a very much a “been-there-done-that” sort of concert. Mozart’s Haffner symphony was the very first whole symphony I played in public (Lewisham Philharmonic – never mind how long ago) and I hold it in great affection. And I did Beethoven 7 only last week with the South London Community Orchestra I now play second violin in. The intimate knowledge – including with the Beethoven being able to visualise the music in my head and knowing where the page turns come – certainly makes for a different listening experience.

In Ben Gernon’s interpretation of the Haffner – a succinct symphony – I admired his control of dynamics and lightness of touch in the opening movement, followed by an elegant andante, a wittily executed minuet and trioand a rousing presto taken at an impressive pace.

Then came the centrepiece: violinist Tamsin Wayley-Cohen and the Mozart K291, the 5th concerto known as the Turkish.  It’s one of those works which makes you smile at every fluent bar of Mozartian playfulness including the pianissimo solo entry in the first movement which Wayley-Cohen carefully underplayed on her mellow toned Stradivarius instrument. She had fun with the “Turkish” section leaning gleefully on exotic harmonies and she played the decorations in the finale with insouciance.

She’s an interesting musician to watch because she played this concerto as if it were chamber music, leaning in to the conductor and leader with lots of eye contact, her body angled away from the audience. She also often joins in with the orchestral sections – commendably un-diva like in her dramatic flowing white dress and silver heeled shoes. Then she stunned the audience with her flamboyant encore. I have absolutely no idea how you do double stopping and left hand pizzicato at the same time and her account of the second section of Kreisler’s Recitativo and Scherzo Caprice was dazzling.

And so to the delights of Beethoven’s glorious Seventh Symphony played here with all the repeats respected so it was a meaty rendering. Gernon, who works without a baton, kicked off at a very slow speed so that every note in the gentle rising scales between the big chords was clear. Then he shot off like a romantic era rocket when he reached the vivace all the way to that wonderful moment when the horn does its white water rafting blasts at the top of the texture just before the end of the movement – just one example of lovely work from principal horn at several points in this symphony.

Gernon’s allegretto was crisper and less self indulgent that some conductors and it felt refreshing as did the supple, agile dance he created in the presto while still allowing plenty of weight in the middle section with sustained notes and horn melodies. His fourth movement – very fast indeed – was powerful too because despite the speed every detail was attended too and there was some excellent trumpet playing – bags of the requisite brio.

I thought that a programme like this would pack the Dome to the gunwhales. Sadly it didn’t. Of course there were a lot of people there but there were also far too many empty seats. Come on, folks. Brighton Philharmonic needs big audiences to survive. And you missed a treat this time.

http://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?cat=3

A Christmas Carol
Charles Dickens’ classic story adapted and updated by Chickenshed
society/company: Chickenshed
performance date: 30 Nov 2018
venue: Chickenshed Theatre, Chase Side, Southgate, London N14 4PE
 
This imaginative show is Dickens as you’ve never seen it before.

Director/writer Lou Stein and composer Dave Carey have shifted it to the 1930s so that the story of Scrooge as an exploitative textile factory owner is set against the depression, campaigns for equal pay for women and rumblings of an impending war. And they manage to do all this while still retaining some of the most iconic lines and scenes in the original. It’s neat, clever and effective.

And because this is Chickenshed it’s ensemble, ensemble, ensemble with some talented adults (mostly former Chickenshed members who have stayed on as staff) glueing the production together. Each performance features 200 cast members with an emphasis on diversity and inclusivity. This is, after all, “Theatre changing lives”. I saw the “Blue rota” but there are also red, yellow and green rotas who appear on other nights. In total Stein and his colleagues are working with 800 performers on this show which is crazy but with supremely efficient organisation and discipline they make it work extraordinarily well

The advantage, of course, of having such huge numbers is that with skilled choreography (by a team of five) you can create some stunning scenes and tableaux – and, by golly, they do from the jolly dance scene in Mr Fezziwig’s to the darkly lit ghost scenes with actors dressed in William Fricker’s fabulous greenish grey chain-festooned rags. It also means you can create lots of “bit” parts so we hear lots of these performers singing just a solo verse or two. Of course they’re not professionals but they’re well trained and achieve, generally a high standard.

Carey’s enjoyable music – played live but out of sight from an over-stage gallery and led by him on keys – is firmly in period with lots of jazzy rhythms. Once or twice it feels as if we’re about to waltz off into Me and My Girl but all music is imitative to a greater or lesser extent.

Ashley Driver is a fine Scrooge: gruff, irascible, scowling outrageously unreasonable and then gradually softening as the visitations work their transformational magic. At one point, having stomped about crossly for a long time, he does a little dance of glee and it’s a lovely moment. Michael Bossisse, looking wonderful in white fur, is a vibrant Ghost of Christmas Present and Gemilla Shamruk sings beautifully as the Ghost of Christmas Past. I liked Paul Harris’s richly voiced Marley too.

This show is integrally signed which is always a joy to see. Belinda McGuirk is a wonderfully expressive signer and she’s often joined, or replaced, by other cast members sometimes from side stage and sometimes from within the action. I admire both the inclusivity and the way it’s so fluidly integrated so that the signing becomes an enjoyable part of the show in its own right.

Chickenshed triumphs yet again. And “A Merry Christmas to us all” as Tiny Tim puts it.

First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Chickenshed-A%20Christmas%20Carol&reviewsID=3414
 
 
★★★
by Anthony Neilson. Presented by Citric Acid Productions, in association with Arden Entertainment
society/company: Southwark Playhouse
performance date: 30 Nov 2018
venue: Southwark Playhouse, 77-85 Newington Causeway, London SE1 6BD

★★★

Dan Starkey, Douggie McMeekin and Unique Spencer. Photo: Darren Bell

Anthony Neilson’s 60-minute one-act play, first staged at The Read Room in 1995 is a clever idea for a seasonal play and it sits quite happily in the Southwark Playhouse configured in the round. It asks, in a light-hearted way, some quite significant questions about what Christmas is, why we feel about it as we do and about the complexity and messiness of relationships.

Gary (Douggie McMeekin) is running a mildly dodgy warehouse business when, on Christmas Eve, he catches what he takes to be a burglar (Dan Starkey). The intruder claims he’s a Christmas Elf and is certainly dressed as one. Incredulity, some of it quite funny, follows especially from Gary’s friend Simon (Michael Salami) and later from the prostitute Cherry, (Unique Spencer) clearly a regular caller. None of them believes a word of it really but, in their different ways, they are all unhappy people who’d really like some joy in their lives and, eventually, in a sense find it.

There’s some intelligent acting especially between McMeekin and Salami who spark well off each other and are visible listeners. Starkey’s Elf is a much more middle class type and the contrast adds a bit of dramatic friction. Spencer’s character is very angry and has plenty of presence although her accent is unconvincing.

On the whole, though, the pacing of the piece is a bit samey. There’s an awful lot of loud expletive-laden shouting and “attitude” which isn’t balanced by enough reflective discussion Yes, it’s naturalistic dialogue, but no one talks like this at such length because it would be so exhausting. It’s certainly wearing to listen to. When characters stop to think and desist from shouting and start thinking we see real sensitive vulnerability and the production needs a bit more of that.

Douggie McMeekin and Dan Starkey star in The Night Before Christmas at Southwark Playhouse. Photo: Darren Bell
 
 First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Southwark%20Playhouse-The%20Night%20Before%20Christmas%20-%20%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85&reviewsID=3413