Press ESC or click the X to close this window

Bristol Old Vic: the stage where students can learn on the job

Julian Glover is Julius Caesar, Lynn Farleigh is Calpurnia and John Hartoch is Cinna the Poet. Everyone else in the cast of Bristol Old Vic’s current production of Julius Caesar is a third-year student at Bristol Old Vic Theatre School.

Traditionally, young actors learned their craft from more experienced ones in repertory companies. When it was founded by Laurence Olivier in 1946, Bristol Old Vic Theatre School was an adjunct to Bristol Old Vic. It went on to feed the theatre with good young actors such as Jeremy Irons and Tim Pigott-Smith.

As the rep system faded away, BOVTS developed into an independent entity. Now, several decades on, the two organisations are working actively together again …

Read the rest of this article https://www.thestage.co.uk/advice/2017/bristol-old-vic-stage-students-can-learn-job/

Edna O’Brien’s own dramatisation of her iconic, cat-among-the-pigeons 1960 novel is good in parts but, sadly, the converse is also true. It still feels like a novel being acted out rather than a well-constructed play. It’s jerkily episodic. The identity and significance of characters is often far from clear and there’s no satisfying exposition, development and denouement.

O’Brien originally infuriated the Catholic Church in Ireland by depicting two 1950s girls from patriarchal, repressive rural Western Ireland who go to Dublin, get into some dubious company learn a lot about life and eventually leave for London. Inevitably that means nasty nuns at school, predatory older men in Dublin and a weeping, useless father furious about his daughter’s independence.

For all that, there’s some impressive acting in this show. Grace Molony (the quality of her LAMDA training shows) makes a fine job of developing Kate from a sensitive, puzzled child devastated by the death of her mother to a young adult – sometimes thoughtful, always intelligent and moved by poetry swinging between having a good time with her more flamboyant friend Baba and her own conscience. As Baba, Genevieve Hulme-Beaman is funny and feisty with a whiff of vulnerability which makes the character seem all too plausible.

There’s lovely work too from Rachel Atkins as the wise, often warm, German landlady in Dublin. Other actors act well enough but it isn’t always clear what their function is. Keshini Misha, dressed in a sari, for example wanders the stage singing a folksong very nicely – twice. I have no idea what this was mean to add or say.

Sometimes the dialogue is hard to hear, moreover. It’s a built in challenge with theatre in the round or on a thrust of course. And here the problem is worsened by the Irish accents whose register sometimes demands slower delivery than the high pitched naturalistic speed it often goes at in this show.

This Chichester production, directed by Lisa Blair, is the UK premiere of this play. I’m not sure how much more we’re likely to hear of it.

First published by Sardineshttp://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Chichester%20Festival%20Theatre%20(professional)-The%20Country%20Girls&reviewsID=2881

 

Julian-Capolei-William-Grint-and-Matthew-Jacobs-Morgan.-300x300

The Who’s Tommy continues at Theatre Royal Stratford East, London until 17 June, then tours until 1 July.

Star rating: four stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

This ambitious inclusive take on The Who’s 1969 rock musical is vibrant, energetic and showcases some exciting talent.

In fact it’s theatrically so busy that you’d probably need to see it half a dozen times to ensure that you miss nothing …

Read the rest of this review at http://musicaltheatrereview.com/the-whos-tommy-theatre-royal-stratford-east/

 

 

I am watching the new Federation of Drama Schools with interest.

Of course I can understand why the UK’s major drama schools feel they need some kind of communal  (united?) voice. They’ve lost National Council of Drama School Training which merged with Conference of Drama Schools. The new organisation, Drama UK, seemed to achieve precious little beyond confusing the interested public with its triple level admissions system, charging drama schools huge sums of money and swanning off to China to create “a brand” (what?) there. Then it began to haemorrhage members and money. Last year it folded and good riddance.

So a fresh start seems, in theory, like a brave, sensible idea. Let’s hope  Leon Rubin (principal of East 15) and David Shirley (Head of Manchester School of Theatre) both of whom I’ve interviewed and met on many occasions – as leaders of this initiative are going to learn from the errors the last lot made.

I’m pleased, for instance to see that all the members who left Drama UK (in despair?) are on board with the Federation – although I’m sorry to see that lovely, very capable Cygnet Theatre Exeter doesn’t seem to be part of it yet.

But an opportunity has been missed with mental health. It is now very well known that performing arts students are even more prone to issues than their counterparts in other disciplines. Well over a hundred organisations, including a handful of enlightened drama schools have signed up to the Time4Change charter in an attempt to make a real difference.

The new Federation of Drama Schools should be insisting that all its member schools associate themselves with the Charter as a condition of membership. It’s no good at all these big schools saying that they already have mental health provision. One counsellor for hundreds of students who can be seen only via an appointment a fortnight hence is simply not good enough.

And what are the arrangements for allowing new colleges and schools to join? Or is this going to be the same sort of  narrowly focused closed shop that  Conference of Drama Schools was? There are many schools beyond those twenty doing fine work. Are they welcome? And what mechanisms are there, if any, for distinguishing the  good colleges from the charlatans.

I wish the new Federation well – obviously. It would very churlish not to. But I think there are some serious questions to be asked and answered if it’s to be taken seriously.

 

Well we’ve been to Amsterdam, My Loved One, the terrifying Ms Alzheimer’s and I. I’m drafting this on the train heading home to London.

The toxic monster kept a fairly low profile for most of the three days we were away but of course she’s ever present in the shadows. I’m continuously aware of her in the corner of my eye. She got at him, for instance, while I was snatching forty well needed afternoon winks in our hotel room – eye of the ball for a few minutes. When I surfaced MLO had showered, changed and was looking very dapper. “Are you going somewhere?” I asked. “Well I thought I’d better get ready for the birthday party” he replied. I never ascertained whose birthday party he thought we were going to. It would be funny if it weren’t so bloody tragic.

But of course there were lovely bits too and for most of the time we’ve been able to have sensible, adult conversations which more or less exclude the hateful Ms A, thank goodness. The whole point of the trip was to get Mr E into the Concertgebouw to hear the Royal Concertgebouw orchestra on their own turf – a hitherto long held ambition of his. We heard Radu Lupu play Mozart’s 24th piano concerto and then some pretty wonderful Strauss and Wagner. MLO’s eyes shone throughout and it was a tear-jerking sort of evening for more reasons than one.

Otherwise it’s difficult to know what do with him given that Ms A pecks away at him all the time so that he’s perpetually tired. Ninety minutes in the Rijks Museum (Rembrandt, Vermeer et al) was all he could manage. And soon after that we had to go back to the hotel to rest. A walk round the lanes and canals in the Jordaan area was really too much too and crowds are always difficult.

I naturally walk at a moderately brisk pace – allegro ma non troppo perhaps. Because Ms A seems to drag him back as if he were carrying a couple of sacks of potatoes, MLO now walks at lento. That means that within a few hundred yards a congenial walk becomes a tedious trudge. And that was what happened in Amsterdam’s lovely Vondelpark. I find myself doing a lot of hand holding – not out of romantic affection (although of course that’s still there) but rather as you hang on to a child as a  means of anchoring him or her. And I find the slow pace very wearisome. If I let go I inevitably I walk ahead, MLO drops back and then I look round and he’s out of sight in the crowd. It happened repeatedly in Amsterdam. I’m turning into an anxious, protective mother hen – oddly, much more so than when I had young children.

Always slight of build and pale of complexion, MLO now looks quite frail – an adjective several friends have used lately. And that means that when we’re out and about, most people are helpful and considerate – giving up seats on public transport and being patient in restaurants when he dithers, for example. I keep “My husband isn’t very well” up my sleeve as trump card but haven’t so far needed to play it very often. People can see how things are.

It fills me with desperate sadness to watch the physical decline, though. He still automatically reaches for the larger of our two small wheeled suitcases – then finds he can’t lift it across that ridiculous “gap” even wider on some continental trains than British ones. So I have to do it and he hates that.

He also feels the cold more than he used to. One of our days in Amsterdam was chilly. “Perhaps I’ll buy a jacket. I could do with a new one”. I told him, not very seriously, that what he needed was a nice warm hoodie and to my astonishment he went into a GANT shop and bought one. MLO! In a hoodie! Who says that leopards (especially demented ones) don’t change their spots?

A weight-loss class or group attracts people disparately. The dynamic as they ‘bond’ has such strong theatrical potential that it’s surprising that (to my knowledge) no one has tapped into this rich field before.

Clearly inspired by Weight Watchers, Slimming World et al, Fat Busters is a commercial company that exists to help people lose weight – but in this case the leader (Fiona, played by Yvette Robinson) is a whining, self-interested bully doing her class – all of them vulnerable in their different ways – no good at all.

The characters and mindsets are well observed in Rebecca Westberry’s production, and the piece is very funny …

Read the rest of this review at http://musicaltheatrereview.com/fatbusters-the-musical-st-giles-in-the-fields/

 

The opening performance in OHP’s 2017 – and in its lavishly refurbed premises – is energetic, enjoyable and colourful. Director Martin Lloyd-Evans makes interesting use of the very long (almost traverse), split level playing space and there’s a vibrant sound coming out of the pit under Matthew Kofi Waldren. The occasional acoustic awkwardness and time lag caused by having, for example, the horns a very long way from the percussion is more than compensated for by delightful attention to the detail in Puccini’s richly orchestrated score.

Puccini’s 1917 opera tells the story of Magda, a classy girl whose comforts have mostly been earned on her back, attracting and falling in love with a decent man who doesn’t realise what she is – cue for much angst, eventually on both sides and no chance of a happy ending. The title – the swallow in Italian – presumably refers to her flitting from man to man and disappearing at the end.

Design by takis places us firmly in the 1950s with candy coloured full skirted frocks, a rather beautiful pastel green drawing room and lots of suits and smoking place us firmly in the 1950s. And when we move to a bar/nightclub/salon of doubtful repute in Act 2, the all cast waltz is choreographed (movement director: Steve Elias) as a big jiving sequence which is good fun and very effective.

The night belongs, though to Elizabeth Llewellyn as Magda and Matteo Lippi as Ruggero. Llewellyn has a voice like best dark chocolate in the lower register and crystal clear water in the upper. She achieves an impressive variation of tone and packs in huge amounts of immaculately acted emotion. Her reading aloud of the letter from Ruggero’s mother in the third act is a good example of impassioned excitement mixed with horror. It is a very fine performance indeed.

Lippi blends with her well, also conveying well sung passion and, in the end distress. This may not be Madame Butterfly, Turandot or La Boheme but there are still some very melodious passages and Lippi and Llewellyn treat us to some magnificent duets.

A good start to the season, then, and I was one of hundreds of women who were openly impressed by the new lavatories. Thanks, Opera Holland Park and your sponsor Investec.

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

I must have seen a dozen Don Giovannis since I last saw one traditionally set in the eighteenth century. And they get ever more ingenious and imaginative. I suppose it says something for the timelessness of this story of hedonistic amorality, revenge and justice. Oliver Platt’s version for OHP is set on a luxurious 1930s cruise ship which provides a certain plausibility as the Don seeks further seductions to add to his list. And Neil Irish’s set gives us a long narrow deck with lots of doors, some of which open to provide mini rooms and most of it slides away to create a communal area for strolling, deck chairs, dancing, quoits and so on.

Ashley Riches is the most imposing looking Don I’ve ever seen. Taller than anyone else on stage, he brings a charismatic loucheness to the role which – unusually – means you can actually see why so many women fall for him, at least initially. He also sings beautifully of course. The seduction aria addressed to Zerlina (Ellie Laugharne – good) and accompanied by James Ellis on mandolin is utterly delightful, not least because it’s so simple and contrasts well with the more complex work, in duet with Leporello (John Savournin) for example. Savournin finds all the right chagrin, loyalty, wonder, distaste and jealousy to the role and the list number is fun with the numbers chalked up on the quoits score board as he goes.

Victoria Simmonds’s impassioned Donna Elvira ensures that the audience feels real sympathy for this woman who has been “ruined” and cast aside. There’s nice work from Lauren Fagan as Donna Anna especially in that nasty rape scene, played partly on stage in this version, at the beginning. It must be quite a challenge to sing when you’re sideways on the floor with your cheek pressing down and a very large actor on top of you. This production doesn’t pull many punches or invite much sympathy for this serial seducer/rapist. The murder of Il Commendatore ( Graeme Broadbent) is pretty graphic too.

Don Giovanni stands or falls on the strength and staging of its ending. Full marks for this one in which Broadbent’s basso profundo avenger is like Stephen Berkoff playing Banquo’s ghost and pretty damn terrifying.

Warm praise too for the costumes. Themed in amber, yellow, beige and dark red the passengers’ clothes are a visual feast, particularly the Chanel- style trousers and Fagan’s pink silk dressing gown. This is a show which looks as good as it sounds. Dane Lam draws huge amounts of finely drawn detail from his orchestra and it’s fascinating to watch the meticulous way he supports singers by mouthing almost every word.

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