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Kat’a Kabanova (Susan Elkin reviews)

This concise, passionate piece comes with echoes of both Chekhov and Ibsen – somewhere between The Seagull and A Doll’s House. Based on a mid-nineteenth century Russian play and inspired by Janacek’s late flowering love for a much younger woman, it is written with mature, if not always subtle, musical skill – that fortissimo timpani roll at the moment of sexual ecstasy for instance –  and, in this production, conductor Sian Edwards ensures that every nuance is brought out.

As always at Opera Holland Park the playing area is so wide that it’s almost transverse theatre except that the audience is all on one side. Designer Yannis Thavoris has used it pragmatically, with a pseudo river, complete with the ubiquitous reeds, winding across the space and a semi circular mini stage to represent indoors in various forms – I won’t dwell on the fact that in its first incarnation the latter reminded me of a trampoline guard. It was effective thereafter.

Kat’a (Julia Sporsen) is a married woman with an unexciting husband (Nicky Spence) and an appalling mother-in-law (Anne Mason). In her husband’s absence she falls in love with Boris (Peter Hoare) and of course – this is opera – it can’t end happily.

Sporsen and Hoare work pleasingly together and each brings out the raw longing, regret, guilt and all the rest of it with some impressive solo singing and duet work. The symbolic flying movement as they lift all four of their arms to create a sense of togetherness (with a nod at the old slang implications of “flying”) underpins the singing rather cleverly too. Amongst the supporting roles Paul Curievici as Kudrjas stands out as does Clare Presland’s Varvara.

The chorus is a strange beast in this production though. The score gives them very little singing but, since they have to be in the building, director Oliver Fuchs uses them a lot in other ways to provide a sense of bustling crowd scenes, people walking by the river or observing the action. The trouble is that there are 32 of them and the lay out of OHP’s stage means that it takes a long time to get that number of people on and into position for what are often very short scenes – the whole laborious concept is far too fussy. Full marks, thought, for their beautiful, elegant Downton Abbey-esque costumes – in brown, terracotta, amber, burgundy and orange; like warm old bricks.

Kat’a Kabanova doesn’t  seem to get as many outings these days as Cunning Little Vixen or Jenufa and that’s a pity because it’s an interesting piece worth exploring. Well done Opera Holland Park for the usual imaginative programming.

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

 

No wonder there are so many productions about just now. Priscilla, Queen of the Desert is a heart-warming, important story which cheerfully celebrates sexual diversity without ignoring the prejudice and challenges which being “different” brings. It also has a large number of meaty roles and cameos as well as being musically powerful (all those hits) so it scores all round. And providing you’re prepared to run with a massive costume budget as Louis Ling’s Cambridge Theatre Company has clearly done then it’s a case of hop on the bus for an evening of mildly outrageous high-quality, camp, glitzy fun. Sequins are de rigeur. People dressed and dancing as cupcakes or paintbrushes are as surreally silly as they are entertaining.

Three drag queens, each with his/her (one of them is transsexual) own problems travel across the desert from Sydney to Alice Springs in a large (unreliable) camper bus to appear in a club. It is a journey in every sense because all three are searching for a personal change of direction.

Gareth Mullan finds troubled warmth and plenty of depth in Tick who has an amicably estranged wife and a child he’s never met in Alice Springs. His lyrical tenor voice is a great asset too. Max Digby Carpenter is strong as the petulant and bitchy but vulnerable (the beating up scene is very disturbing) Adam. Jeff Hammond is convincing as the older, wiser, sadder bereaved Bernadette, a transgender woman who needs a man in her life. The central essence of this show is the dynamic tension between the three of them and it’s nicely managed in this production – every line skilfully timed with precision and every possible innuendo (no shortage here) expertly and thoroughly milked.

There are also plenty of pretty fabulous dance routines. Director, Emily Starr, and choreographer/assistant director David Mallabone give us masses of imaginative vibrance so that the stage pounds with theatrical energy, especially – for example – in the finale to Act 1. Kenneith Yong (ensemble) is an outstandingly talented dancer: twitching, tumbling, gyrating and he’s great as the aboriginal who dresses in role only for the tourists. His is such a glitteringly good performance that I assumed (wrongly, I learned afterwards) that he is a fully trained and accomplished pro.

Other fine actors in minor roles include Richard Dodd as the ever-decent Bob, Andrew Ruddick as the flamboyant Miss Understanding and Kattreya Scheurer-Smith as the hilariously naughty nightclub dancer, Cynthia. Sophie Benefor, Maria Buda and Heather Panton give us a competent busy Diva trio.

Meanwhile – the school theatre at the Leys school is modern and very well equipped – the nine piece band is tucked overhead on side balcony making a grand sound under the baton of musical director, Lucas Elkin who has also made sure that the harmony singing comes through clearly from the stage.

Someone pointed out to me after the show that amateur theatre comes at different levels. “This show,” she observed, “is high-end amateur”. Too right it is. Cambridge Theatre Company has come a long way in a very short time.

First published by Sardineshttp://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Cambridge%20Theatre%20Company%20-Priscilla,%20Queen%20of%20the%20Desert%20&reviewsID=2899
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Cygnet Theatre, Rosemary Branch.

Measure for Measure is a strange play but I used to teach it to A level students and I love it. Part of its difficulty is that so few or the characters are likeable – almost all are flawed but that’s what makes it so interesting and, of course make it such a good choice for a small company of actors in training. Every role is a meaty one and spread amongst a cast of just six it becomes a real showcase for versatility and talent (not to mention quick changes).

Isabella (Jessica Parsons), a nunnery novice, is propostioned by Angelo (Guy Dennys) who is deputising for Lucentio (Jake Sullivan) as Duke of Vienna when she pleads with him for the life of her brother sentenced to death for fornication. These three actors graduate from Cygnet Training Theatre in Exeter this month. The other three cast members are still part-way through their course.

Well it’s a fascinating idea to double the passionate Isabella, ardently suppressing her own sexuality with ailing, forthright Mistress Overdone the brothel owner and Parsons, who plays other minor roles as well, brings incisive intelligence to both. She’s at her most disturbing when gazing unsmilingly into religious ecstasy as Isabella. I suspect she has studied Bernini’s statue of St Teresa pretty carefully.

Another intriguing doubling idea is to get Marissa Rowell to play a female Pompey – simpering, hip swinging, delivering killer lines and definitely off to sleep with Abhorson, the executioner – as well as the troubled decent Provost, one of the few straightforwardly good guys in this troubled play. Both are a good example of gender-neutral casting although she’s also strong as the needy Mariana who finally gets Angelo as a husband (although one fears for their future) and is delighted to do so.

As Angelo (and other roles) Dennys is suitably “precise” and “snow broth” until his darker urges get the better of him. There’s remorse at the end though – or distress at being rumbled – and Dennys’s shoulder shaking audible sobbing on his knees with his back to the audience is both effective and affecting. He happens to be physically bigger than anyone else in the cast too so that adds to his visual authority.

Damian Schedler Cruz is strong as feather collared, immoral, self interested, cruel and loquacious Lucio and Scott Simpson brings exasperated gravitas to Escalus and anguish to Claudio.

It is, however, Jake Sullivan as the morally ambiguous, manipulative Duke who really stands out. He speaks Shakespeare’s lines with a clarity and freshness which many an actor twice his age would envy and his every action is both naturalistic and convincing. He deserves to get good professional work very quickly.

Music underpins this production (Sullivan, who co-wrote and arranged it with Stephen Copp and Jaquie Crago. is also good on the guitar) so we get monastic chants, rather sinister nursery rhymes and an ensemble piece for Mariana’s entertainment in her moated grange. It adds atmosphere and – incidentally – demonstrates additional skills in this talented young cast.

It’s a concise take on the play – more or less “two hours traffic of our stage – which bowls along at an admirably slick pace although the cuts don’t really show. And as for that ending in which Lucentio, after treating her appallingly, expects Isabella to marry him? Well it should be left ambiguous and Alistair Ganley clearly agrees with me. I enjoyed it very much.

First published by Sardines http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Cygnet%20Theatre%20(student%20productions)-Measure%20for%20Measure&reviewsID=2898

I review a lot of professional theatre. I also cover amateur shows, including student ones.  Regularly doing both throws up some thorny problems.

If you are watching a show created by seasoned professionals featuring highly trained, paid actors whether you are at the National or the Brockley Jack, the Palladium or the Pleasance you expect a certain standard. And as a critic, you have no hesitation in saying so when any aspect of the show falls short. So far, so straightforward.

“Amateur theatre” on the other hand, is a very broad church and comes at many levels. At one end of the scale are the enthusiasts in the village hall whose work is a bit like The Play That Goes Wrong but much less funny. Worthy as it is –  and I’m delighted they’re having fun and developing through taking part –  I have learned to avoid this sort of show because I simply don’t what to say or write about it afterwards. By any objective standards it’s dire.

At the other end of the spectrum come the non-pro companies (I’m thinking of Cambridge Theatre Company, whose Priscilla Queen of the Desert I saw last week, for example) which often have trained actors in the cast. They employ professional directors and musicians and hire proper costumes. They also attract high calibre non-pro performers usually from a wide area if there are open auditions and the result is a very creditable show which is actually comparable with middle grade professional work.

And the key word is “comparable”. Should one apply the same set of criteria to every show irrespective of who’s doing it? Well you can do that with factors such as audience engagement or clarity of story telling. You can’t do it with the quality of Actor A’s full belt top C or Actor B’s comic timing or the staging and choreography because of course, the professionals will almost always, by definition, be better. On the other hand it feels very patronising to me to regard or declare something as “good considering it’s ‘only’ amateur”. Surely we critics owe it to these people to treat their work with respect and that includes being adversely critical where it’s called for although, it has to be said, amateurs don’t always understand that and can get very huffy.

I honestly don’t know the answer to this. Meanwhile I try to plough  a fair furrow and to offer constructive criticism to all.

Three cheers for Lord Andrew Adonis, former education minister. He seems to be waging a one man campaign to highlight the obscenity of over paid academics. Last week he pointed out that at University of Bath, 67 members of staff earn more than £100,000 pa. 13 earn in excess of £150,000 and last year the vice-chancellor, Glynis Breakwell took an 11% rise which takes her annual salary to £451.000 plus benefits such a historic house to live in. And Bath is one of our smaller universities. Adonis has recently published figures, nearly as damning, for several other universities too. All this at a time when students are struggling to pay fees which are now well over £9000 a year in most cases. Of course the same principles apply to drama schools which have merged with universities  – empire building, often personal fiefdoms, at the expense of students who simply want to train for the profession they love. I think it’s time all higher education institutions were required by law to make their accounts as transparent as possible. And that would include a printed or digital copy sent to every student so that they can see exactly where their fees are going.

Well, that bitch, Ms Alzheimer’s certainly knows how to scupper sense of time – as in whether today is Tuesday or Sunday and whether we’re doing what we discussed last night or  dealing with some future arrangement, mentioned in passing.

My lovely loved one now frequently asks me what day of the week it is. Last Sunday we were due to pick the cherries from a tree in a Kent Orchard – Rent a Cherry Tree is an annual Christmas gift from my sister. On waking (early on the alarm clock) I asked him what we were going to do. “Aren’t we going to a funeral?” he replied. Well, I’m learning to read the surreal workings of his impaired brain now. MLO was thinking of a memorial service we were due to attend 48 hours later. My mistake was to have chatted about it at what must seem to him the “wrong” time.

Time and its complexities is one of the last abstractions a child conceptualises. It’s no good telling a two year old, in September, that we’re all going to Granny’s for Christmas. If he or she takes it in at all there will be misunderstandings. “When” is much trickier than “where”. And parents of young children know that instinctively. It isn’t, I suppose, therefore surprising that time is one of the first things to go when the brain is regressing. It reminds me of Martin Amis’s 1991 novel Time’s Arrow  in which the protagonist is living his life in reverse, speeding back towards the womb getting younger as he goes.

Meanwhile I have to find practical ways of dealing with it. So I have a new policy. Each night  I say: “This is what you (or we) are doing tomorrow and I’m not going to tell you about anything beyond that because you’ll get in a muddle”. He smiles gratefully. Then we go through it again in the morning when he may or may not remember some, part or all of it.

It’s another slant on “ take every day as it comes” but it’s far from easy because it destroys (bloody Ms A) much of the fabric or normal discourse and the kind of chatty conversation which has been part of our lives for decades. If I find myself trotting downstairs from my office and saying “Good news! I’ve got press tickets for Fiddler on the Roof at Chichester next week” or “We’re going to lunch with the family on Sunday” or “I’ll have to leave you a snack on Tuesday night because I’m working” I have to bite it back. Such bits of information are toxic. Within hours they bounce back at me garbled and misunderstood.

And I resent that a lot because I’m a communicator – forthcoming and informative by nature. Both as teacher and journalist, I have always been a disseminator – of stuff, at all levels. Having to desist from sharing quite ordinary things feels horrible. It means conversation isn’t quite spontaneous any more. Hate it.

 

 

Acting apprenticeships

I reviewed Changeling Theatre’s rather good Hamlet last week in the ruins of the old Garrison Church at Woolwich. I really liked the production and it is my fervent hope that we shall soon see/hear more of Alex Phelps who played the title role to the manner born. I was also impressed to hear from director Rob Forknall, before the show started, about the company’s apprenticeship scheme. Cary Ryan, who has just finished his A levels at Simon Langton Grammar School in Canterbury gave us a very entertaining Player Queen, along with other minor and ensemble roles. He is the company’s current apprentice – with them for the current tour, learning on the job from more experienced actors in the time honoured way, Forknall tells me that Cary is not paid because it’s a form of work experience. In a sense then, that benefits the company and it is most certainly an excellent opportunity for Cary. Win win. Why don’t more companies do this?

Connections plays

Every year National Theatre Connections invites playwrights to write new plays for student groups all over the country. They are done by schools, colleges, youth theatres and the like in regional festivals, Then the best production of each play comes to the South Bank for a festival weekend in July, It’s a wonderful scheme and has generated some very fine plays – all for large casts – over the years. The 10 new ones for 2017 have just  been published in a single meaty volume by Bloomsbury Methuen Drama. And if you didn’t see any of them (or even if you did) locally or nationally then they are well worth a read. Their shelf life begins here, of course, because all are available to perform and the addresses to apply to for performing rights are listed at the end of the book.

Booster seats in theatres

I also saw and reviewed What the Ladybird Heard at the end of last week. It is playing under Thriller Live at Lyric, Shaftesbury Avenue. The target audience is under 5s. Have you tried sitting, say a three year old in a conventional theatre seat? He or she slides back in the seat and can’t see the stage at all. They need booster cushions and any half decent theatre provides them. So why doesn’t The Lyric? Families are expected to pay for seats (lowest price £16.67) for these children which are then unusable. It is extremely uncomfortable for an adult to sit for an hour with a two stone child on a lap. And what is an adult who has brought more than one small child supposed to do?  Any theatre which stages children’s theatre should invest in booster cushions and it is disgraceful that some do not.

The stage adaptation of Julia Donaldson’s What the Ladyird Heard has benefited from a great deal of development work since its first outing in 2014.

Gone is the cliched opening and there’s now much more fun to be had in the farmyard including a catchy new animal feeding song with much baaing, quacking and clucking.

Read the rest of this review at The Stage: https://www.thestage.co.uk/reviews/2017/ladybird-heard-review-lyric-theatre-london/

So what makes a good musical? Whatever it is, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, Matador and Lord of the Rings didn’t have it. This ingeniously engaging revue picks songs, some of them utterly appalling, from 16 flop musicals and has a lot of fun with them.

A talented cast of four, who have to be very televisual in a tiny intimate space, perform without mics and hold the floor for nearly an hour with witty interjections from MD Aaron Clingham on piano at the back.

For the first minute or two, during which Clingham plays an intro, I was briefly reminded of the church youth club revues I used to take part in, but I needn’t have worried, the show almost immediately finds its feet and sallies forth entertainingly.

The dwarf patter song from Lord of the Rings must be very difficult indeed to learn, but it’s so silly and pointless, you can’t help wonder why anyone ever thought it was a good idea to include it …

Read the rest of this review at Musical Theatre Review: http://musicaltheatrereview.com/cream-canal-cafe-theatre/