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West Side Story (Susan Elkin reviews)

society/company: Cambridge Theatre Company
performance date: 24 Oct 2018
venue: Great Hall at the Leys

Arguably the greatest (in every sense) musical of the second half of the twentieth century, West Side Story is a colossal undertaking for a, mostly, youth cast but they rise admirably to the challenge under Chris Cuming’s direction.

Cambridge Theatre Company has managed to assemble 22 boys for this project which is, in itself, a real achievement given how dance heavy the show is. Cuming gets them moving so imaginatively and slickly that he enables every one of them to “dance” even when the moves are not, in themselves, complicated or difficult. He has a real gift for getting the very best out of young people and making it look splendidly and colourfully dramatic.

Working on Scott Hunter’s set with scaffolding across the back to create a range of levels and the transitory atmosphere of uneasy immigrants (ever topical), the cast of fifty five, pulsing with energy, are directed to make good use of the space. They leap, slide, race, somersault, jive, shout, click fingers and a lot more. The band, of which more anon, are in another room.

The two central performances are outstanding. Jasmine Cairns, as Maria, commands the stage whenever she’s on it and she has a strikingly mature singing voice. She’s a convincing actor too especially in the devastating last scene. The piece is loosely based, of course, on Romeo and Juliet and does not end happily.

Olly Manley who plays Tony has a warm, melifluous, well modulated singing voice and yes, his acting ensures that we all agree he’s a lad any girl would fall for, irrespective of his background.

Abigail Mann is good value as the jabbering, anxious Anita with a good mezzo voice and Richard Sockett ( adult and a familiar face on the Cambridge Theatre scene) adds gravitas and balance as Doc. Dan Lane as Riff is an accomplished actor and Oli Wyatt brings plenty of oily malevolence to Bernado

MD Graham Brown has thirteen excellent musicians tucked away elsewhere in the building all doing their utmost. There are two problems with this, though.

First, this pared down arrangement does not do justice to Bernstein’s wonderful score which was originally meant for a full size symphony orchestra. Here the texture is often woefully thin with middle parts missing. And of course almost everyone in the audience knows the music very well so you can’t help feeling the gaps.

Second, a vibrant, complex piece like West Side Story demands the immersiveness of live music close by. If Brown and co are elsewhere – monitor screens etc, notwithstanding – he can’t feel what’s happening in stage and in places that shows.

I spoke to Cuming (having interviewed him for Sardines last summer) during the interval and learned that these young people had an intensive week together in August. Since then it’s been weekend rehearsals. Cuming reckons it totals the equivalent of about two and a half weeks. Many professional companies would gib at so little time for such a colossal undertaking. Bravo, Cambridge Theatre Company. You continue to do a magnificent job.
 First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Cambridge%20Theatre%20Company%20-West%20Side%20Story&reviewsID=3361

Fibian McKenzie, Cooper Snow, Albie Stisted, Cody Molko & Anjali Shah. Photo by Manuel Harlan

society/company: Chichester Festival Theatre (professional)(directory)
performance date: 22 Oct 2018
venue: Festival Theatre, Chichester
FOUR STARS

 

I’ve been going to shows at Chichester almost since the theatre opened when I was at teacher training college round the corner. And this is the first time in over 50 years that it has included a children’s show in its main Festival programme. Please, please let this be a new tradition because I think it’s a wonderful idea especially if you’ve got talented Dale Rooks (who runs Chichester’s outstanding Learning, Education and Participation Programme) on hand to direct.

This musical version of The Midnight Gang features five child actors (two teams) cast from all over the country and six adult professionals. We’re in the Lord Funt Hospital where children incarcerated in the children’s ward go for adventures round the hospital at night until one project goes hilariously wrong and things have to change. It’s belly laugh funny – Walliams knows a thing or two about laughter of course – but it’s also poignant and moving as it touches on some serious issues such as one child’s terminal illness and one adult’s apparently rootless life. It’s a rather glorious celebration of imagination, kindness and hope too.

Walliams, Lavery and Rooks all know exactly what they’re doing and full marks to ever came up with the idea of the illuminated messages over Simon Higlet’s grandiosely, convincing hospital set complete with reversible panels and rooms emerging from the central floor. I am still chuckling over the instruction that parents should, at this point (a wacky bit of puppetry) cover the eyes of impressionable children and that children with impressionable parents had better cover THEIR eyes.

Cody Molko, a student at Sylvia Young Theatre School, played Tom on press night and found a nice level of assertive innocence and vulnerability in one who hates his boarding school and has been told that his parents don’t care about him. All the children play off each other well. Rafi Essex gives a delightful performance as the cheerfully obese George. Jasmine Sakyiama has oodles of stage presence as Amber and Felix Warren is strong as the geeky, musical Robin whose eyes are bandaged. Cerys Hill sings beautifully as Sally, the cancer patient, especially in the wistful number Big Beautiful Life.

Dickon Gough is outstanding as the Porter who’s been associated with the hospital all his life and has nothing else. He is very tall and, although acting a limp, sometimes takes off gleefully in dance with the children and what a melifluous singing voice. Jennie Dale enjoys herself as the appalling matron pitched somewhere between Miss Trunchbull and the Wicked Witch of the West. Her flirty tango with Tim Mahendran is a moment to treasure. Lucy Vandi is rather good value, too as the jazz singing catering trolley operator, Tootsie.

Arguably, though, the real reason this show works is Joe Stilgoe’s songs. Witty words fly almost continuously and I love the understated melodies often supported by just a vamp so that you can hear and enjoy every one of them. Jennifer Whyte and her five piece band – just visible through the set at the top – do a fine job.

On press night the auditorium was full of parents and grandparents with children enjoying a half term treat. There is clearly an appetite for this sort of thing in Chichester so I’m (hopefully) looking forward to another family show next year.

This review was first published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Chichester%20Festival%20Theatre%20(professional)-The%20Midnight%20Gang%20-%20%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85&reviewsID=3358

 

★★★★

Sophie Ward as Alda Pennington and Tim Woodward as Arthur Rawlings. Photo – Scott Rylander

The Paradise Circus – ★★★★
By James Purdy. Produced by The Playground Theatre.
society/company: Playground Theatre (professional)
performance date: 12 Oct 2018
venue: The Playground Theatre

It’s 1919 and Arthur Rawlings (Tim Woodward) has lost his favourite eldest son in the war. He has no time for the younger ones (Joshua Ward and Sam Coulson) whom he regards as “lazybones and dreamers” so when he gets an opportunity to part company with them he grabs it – only to be felled later by regret and remorse. The plot sits somewhere between The Mayor of Casterbridge and Death of a Salesman. James Purdy (1914-2009) is a highly compelling playwright whose work is at last getting some of the recognition it deserves – this production is the world premiere of this play.

The Playground Theatre is, on this occasion, configured in the round and because it’s a large space there is space for the cast behind some of the raked seating – cue for some very atmospheric, wistful, immersive, choral singing and fine incidental music mostly played and sung by the impressively versatile Darren Berry (who trained at The Royal Ballet School so he dances too) on piano, violin, kit drum, guitar, banjo and more as well as voice and playing a small speaking role as Gonzago.

Sophie Ward is outstanding as the still, calm, sardonic Alda Pennington, a local “witch” consulted by Rawlings in his despair. The wisest, most knowing person of all her character makes outrageous predictions and observations. But this is not witchcraft or magic, it’s wisdom and practicality and she is right every time. Ward dominates the action whenever she’s on stage.

I also liked Joshua Ward’s (yes, he’s Sophie’s son and the late Simon Ward’s grandson – dynasty?) work as Greg. He uses an impassive way of speaking associated with trauma and enduring distress until at the very end when he crumbles and quivers but it’s immaculately understated. He and Coulson work nicely together too with a lot of focused listening.

At the heart of this powerful production is a fine tragic performance from Woodward ably supported by Mark Aiken as the kindly sensible Dr Hallam with whom he has a lot of scenes. There are also some pleasing scenes with Debra Penny as Minnie, a sort of long term live-in family friend and, by implication, mistress to Woodward’s character. She too is affectionate and decent – but with an angry past as her red hot scene with Sophie Ward’s character makes clear.

The Paradise Circus is a tragedy about personality flaws, misjudgement and bad decisions, as strong in its way as Othello or Dr Faustus – and, with sensitive direction by Anthony Biggs – it makes for pretty riveting theatre. A bit of a gem, in fact. Goodness knows why nobody has seen fit to stage it before.

This review was first published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Playground%20Theatre,%20The%20(professional)-The%20Paradise%20Circus%20-%20%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85&reviewsID=3345

Society/company: GDS Productions
performance date: 11 Oct 2018
venue: Central Theatre, 170 High Street, Chatham, Kent ME4 4AS

ondheim’s gift with words and music is very distinctive. One of his many talents, and he does it continuously in Into The Woods, is to blend anapaests and dactyls in the lyrics to create short rhyming lines which he then usually sets in 6|8 time resulting in that characteristic lilting, witty conversational style. And it’s all articulated with commendable clarity by this well directed (Francene Harris) cast nicely lifted by an accomplished 13-strong live band led by MD, Peter Bailey.

Into the Woods is an ambitious choice for a non-pro company but GDS meets the challenge head on with a lot of success. The quartet in Act 2 with Scott Highway as Baker and Lewyss Banfield as Jack – on Central Theatre’s stage right balcony – and Carley Caller as Cinderalla and Claire Scholes as Little Red Riding Hood far away at stage left is utterly beautiful. It’s a terrific piece of writing and these four sing it with magnificent tenderness and musicality.

The thrust of the show and James Lapine’s ingenious book, of course, is to spend the first half weaving traditional fairy stories together (Chas Alder is an engaging narrator in this production) and the second half unpicking the reality of “happily ever after”. Interestingly too it often goes back to the original versions with bits being chopped off feet, eyes being pecked out and quite nice characters being brutally felled rather than the saccharine retellings most people are used to these days.

Rachel Anne Crane-Herbert, a skilled actor and accomplished singer is good value (as usual) as Jack’s mother. I really liked Tonia Plowman’s pro-standard work as the Baker’s wife too, She is a compelling actor and sings exquisitely especially in the upper reaches of her register. Another well developed performance is Carly Caller as a rueful but quite feisty Cinderella.

And Jake Pearse is terrific fun as Cinderella’s hilariously lanky, chocolate-voiced, wild-haired prince. He and Adam Waters, as Rapunzel’s hammed up, wet, Etonian Prince have some lively scenes together.

All in all, then, it’s a reliably strong cast presenting a show which really glitters with quality, partly because of the way it’s written but not least, also because GDS has tackled it so ably. It’s a pity then that it isn’t attracting better audiences. I suppose a show which isn’t an obvious popular choice is a hard sell in Chatham. The night I was there it was poorly attended by a thin stalls-only audience although I understand that other performances have done better.

Get to Chatham before Saturday, 13 October if you can. This Into The Woods is well worth catching.
 This review was first published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-GDS%20Productions-Into%20the%20Woods&reviewsID=3344

★★★

Photo: Nikki Leigh Scott

society/company: West End & Fringe
performance date: 09 Oct 2018
venue: Tristan Bates Theatre, London

They do things differently at Shake-Scene. Actors are given their parts and their cues but do not see the rest of the play or rehearse together in advance. This is, of course, how it was done in Shakespeare’s time – when there was no copyright law – to prevent actors from selling play texts to other companies.

I saw the second performance of The Taming of the Shrew rather than the first so these eleven actors, directed by Lizzie Conrad Hughes who sits at the side on the stage “on the book” were beginning to cohere although their clearly not knowing quite what to expect confers an engaging freshness.

The piece is set (without the tedious framing device) in a modern-ish environment – with 21st Century clothes and food served in a Pret bag – on a bare stage with audience on two sides. You sense that the lack of blocking and there’s rather a lot of standing around when a bit of stage business wouldn’t come amiss. On the other hand each of these actors is sufficiently skilled and engaging that they carry most of the play off simply on the power of personality. There’s a lot of nicely differentiated doubling. And all things considered it zips along at a surprising brisk base so the interest rarely dips.

We start with Petruchio (Matt Williams) looking for a rich wife and deciding to take on, and “tame,” the challenging Katherina (Helen Rose-Hampton) for reasons of his own. Eventually, of course, it’s ‘Kiss me Kate’, unexpected mutual falling in love and a private deal so that he wins his wager against the other men.

Williams is splendid as the dictatorial chauvinistic Petruchio. He shifts adeptly between fortissimo tyranny and dangerously, pretended, calculated gentle pleading. And his falconry soliloquy which makes his full intentions clear is pretty chilling. Williams makes the character charismatically entertaining but, my goodness, you wouldn’t, really wouldn’t. want him in your life.

Rose-Hampton finds an appealing vulnerability in Katherina. Yes she’s feisty and bitterly angry at the way her younger sister Bianca (Nell Bradbury) is always favoured but she’s also hurt and troubled and Rose-Hampton never lets us forget that.

Nell Bradbury turns in a lovely performance as Bianca – actually quite spiteful with a wonderful repertoire of dirty looks and smouldering rage when she’s not flirting. Also noteworthy are Jonathan McGarrity’s urbane Hortensio, Alexandra Kataigida’s knowing, simpering Widow and Linda Mathis as a sexy, laid back Vincentio.

Because these actors don’t know each other’s parts they often forget their own – that’s part of how Shake-Scene works so they call “line” to Conrad Hughes who prompts them. It’s quite an entertaining device that they do this firmly in character or in the tone of the moment so that the prompts almost become an integrated part of the play.

The review was first published by Sardines http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-West%20End%20&%20Fringe-The%20Taming%20Of%20The%20Shrew%20-%20%E2%98%85%E2%98%85%E2%98%85&reviewsID=3342

Money, money, money … managing it gets ever more difficult when you have destructive, unhelpful Ms Alzheimer’s as your new partner.

Like most people we don’t use much cash these days. But last week, by chance, we had to collect the cat from the cattery, pay the window cleaner and the garden odd job man, who dug out a couple of small, ugly mini conifers – all within twenty four hours. And they all expect cash.

On the day in question I was rushed off my feet trying to meet deadlines with two features, get the ironing done, take in a supermarket delivery and loads of other things before setting off do a late afternoon magazine interview in north London.  So when My Loved One said “I could walk round to the cash machine and get what we need” I agreed to it.

Of course that was a very stupid decision and I’m now jolly cross with myself. I really ought to know better by now but he sounded sort of grown up when he offered. I had misgivings because I’m well aware how frail he looks and although it was broad daylight, south London is not exactly free of lawlessness. I was therefore pleased to see him home safely a few minutes later.

Then he gave me the receipt and the money. He was £80 short.

I don’t know what happened. There was some confusion about having to take it out in two lots. Perhaps he left it there. Returning to the machine – as you’d expect – was fruitless and the crosser I got the less coherent he became. Then, while I felt ever more remorseful at having lost my temper with him, he spent most of the remainder of the afternoon sitting on the sofa gazing miserably into the distance. “I don’t feel very well” he said, when I pressed him.

Well, infuriating as this is, the loss of £80 is not going to sink the ship but I’ve learned an important lesson: MLO can no longer be “trusted” with money and I need to treat him as if he’s a child of, say, seven. That’s what Ms A does to people – insidiously saps away their adult status.

We have a personal account each and two joint accounts. I have been operating his personal account through Power of Attorney for several months and have now “confiscated” (still a teacher at heart) all his other cards.

“I’ll need that purple one, though won’t I?” he said in confusion. “Yes”, I replied. “You can keep your bus pass. It’s MONEY I’m concerned about.” Cue for vacant, blank look.

Later I went to a bank and withdrew the rest of cash we needed to pay our dues. When I got home I gave him £15 so that if we go into a coffee shop together and he wants to feel gallant, he can pay. Pocket money – literally. I’ll replenish it when it’s gone.

It’s so difficult to safeguard the last vestiges of self-worth in all this. MLO is an adult, until recently perfectly able to manage money, and being treated like a child must be awful although the worst complaint I ever get is: “Oh you’re so bossy”.

And what on earth do I do about Christmas, now on the horizon? Since we first stopped being “just friends” and became a “proper item” in 1967 we have bought each other nice – usually surprise –  Christmas presents every year. There’s nothing either of us needs of course but it’s an enjoyable tradition. Of course I have a present planned for him. But he won’t be able to reciprocate and he’ll fret – especially on Christmas day and Boxing Day when others are exchanging presents.

I expect I shall end up choosing and buying a present for myself using his personal account. I shall then hand it to him to give back to me (maybe wrapped after a fashion if Ms A lets up for an hour or two at some point) on Christmas morning. Seems absolutely daft. But it will allow him to feel like a proper participant – and that matters very much.

 

 

One of the things I miss most in my new hard-to-adjust-to, Alzheimer’s-polluted marriage, is companionable walks.

We used to walk miles together. In the early 1990s we did, in sections, both the North Downs Way (Medway to Dover) and the Stour Valley Walk (Ashford to Sandwich) and I wrote about them for Kent Life. Later, even after MLO fell off a ladder and smashed his foot in 2002 and could do longer manage a full 12 mile day, we had a whole battery of favourite Kent 5/6 mile walks which we did, with great pleasure, over and over again.

When we moved “home” to South London in 2016 I had lots of plans for our doing the Green Chain Walk and the Thames River Path in bits along with casually and routinely walking a couple of miles to nearby places rather than taking the car or bus. Alas Ms Alzheimer’s arrived on the scene and none of that has happened.

MLO now walks very slowly indeed, dragging his feet in a sort of weary trudge. I reckon his new natural walking speed is about half the speed of mine which, of course, makes walking together impossible other than functionally – across a car park or through a station, for example.   He gets awfully tired very quickly and shows no interest whatever in walking for pleasure. A grind to the (very close) railway station, to the doctors (maybe half a mile) or from our son’s house in Brighton to the Dome for a concert is one thing. Choosing to do it for no practical purpose is another.

When I walk with him over short distances I usually hang on to him for his safety and so that (as you would with a child) I know where he is. It often reminds me of taking a very reluctant dog for a walk because I’m constantly tugging while he resists because, however hard I try to adjust, his speed is slower and as soon as I stop thinking about it consciously I accelerate automatically. Hard work for the puller and, I presume, a bit irritating for the pulled.

The advice from all the medics, websites and people in the know (except that no one really “knows” this hideous and horrible disease) is that the sufferer should keep physically active. Well in a sense he does because he will walk short distances to places he needs to get to if there’s no alternative. If only I could persuade him to join me round the park occasionally. Alas, a combination of physical and mental blocks seem to get in the way. I’m never sure where or when “can’t” turns into “won’t”.

It’s oddly divisive because, for myself, I try – and have done so for decades – to walk as much and as briskly as I can usually by building it into daily life. If I have to go, for instance, to Little Angel Theatre I generally go to St Pancras and walk down Pentonville Road rather than going direct to Angel tube. If I’m heading for Covent Garden or the West End I try to build in enough time to walk from Blackfriars Station rather than taking District and Circle line – and so on and on. I also go out for walks from home whenever time permits even if it’s only 40 minutes round nearby streets. And yes, I have done several sections of the Green Chain on my own and discovered places and roads not far away from home but new to me. I’m afraid, moreover, that I’m also one of those irritating (smug?) people who chooses stairs rather than lift or escalators if it’s only a flight or two. These days I sometimes put MLO in the lift and then pop up the stairs myself. I’m usually there first.

Time was when MLO would have done all this and more with me – willingly and naturally because it was what we did. Now I wander (or stride more likely) lonely as a cloud.

I’ve been sorting out some clothes and other textiles for refugees in Syria because my daughter-in-law is organising a collection. I think I might as well put MLO’s walking boots on the pile. He isn’t going to wear them again and some poor – but younger and fitter – soul might be glad of them. It’s emotionally quite a hard thing to do, though. Another door clanging shut.

Every effort should be made for every show to start on time. Shows run late far too often and I reckon that’s usually avoidable.

For a start I think the industry owes it to the dozens, hundreds or thousands of ticket buyers who’ve made huge efforts to be there at the advertised time.

Some of these punters, moreover, will have checked the show’s run time and arranged, for instance, transport afterwards.  Many will have travelled a considerable distance to be there. And it makes a mockery of anything they’ve planned if the show runs even ten minutes late.

Many’s the time I’ve watched the minutes tick by in the knowledge that I shall, because of a late start, miss the train I was aiming for which means I shall be at least half an hour later home at the end of the evening. And in my case that means even later midnight oil if I have a review to write.

Yes, of course, there are times when delays are completely unavoidable. I was at a fringe show in a pub theatre not so long ago when the stage manager fell off a ladder and was knocked unconscious just a few minutes before the show was due to go up.

On another occasion at a regional theatre for  touring production of A Midsummer Night’s dream “Titania” had an accident during the interval and played the second half seated and with her ankle strapped up so of course there was a delay first while she was sorted out.

And once in the Royal Festival Hall, they announced that we’d have to wait a few more minutes because conductor Sir Simon Rattle was stuck in a taxi in a traffic jam.

These things happen – but not, I contend, all that often. Most performances could, and should start on the dot of the advertised time. Few do.

The worst problem is in small fringe theatres where the culture prevails that the house isn’t declared open until five minutes (or less) before the proposed start time. It’s almost impossible to get even a smallish group of people in, seated and settled in the time allowed so of course the show routinely starts late.

Why, in most cases, can’t the audience go in earlier? Surely performers and those who work with them are ready? And if they’re not then they jolly well ought to be other than under the most unusual, unforseen circumstances such as an accident or technical fault.

It isn’t just small theatres, though. Large scale theatre frequently starts late (no reason given – audience in place) too. Punctuality needs working harder at right across the industry. If it’s show “business” then we need to be more businesslike.