The Hunting Lodge Unicorn Theatre The best thing about this quirky 50-minute show is the fight between two women, immaculately directed by Alison de Burgh. Configuring Unicorn’s studio space, the Clore Theatre, to present a tranverse playing space means that every audience member is very close to the action. So a convincing fight is a tall order but here – with shoes thrown, kicks administered, cloths pulled tight round necks and lots of fierce grunting it comes off well. It is both entertaining and mildly horrifying. Philip Arditti is a modern-ish Prince Charming, fraught with insecurities and mourning for his princess – Cinderella, Grace or what you will – who disappeared five years ago. Two women – played by Fiona Sheehan as Daisy and Rhiann Francis as Charlotte are out to get his attention now that he seems to be available. Naturally there’s little love lost between them especially since Charlotte is Daisy’s cleaner left and hasn’t been given a lift to the ball they’re all at in the eponymous Hunting Lodge. In places it’s quite amusing. There’s real directorial confidence and actor showmanship in the silent interludes when we deduce thoughts from actions and chuckle at them. And Daisy chasing Charlotte with increasingly terrifying weapons including a pitchfork and a masonry drill is good comedy. So is the use of the Carmina Burana music during the fight. On the whole though this play – although well enough acted – is trying far too hard to be too clever. Ignace Cornelissen is a Belgian playwright and Purni Morell has staged his work before (Henry V and The Winter’s Tale) before at Unicorn. As usual he is taking something well known (Cinderalla) and putting his own playful spin on it. The Hunting Lodge, which may have lost something in translation, is disappointingly contrived and feels quite lack lustre and weak. First published by Sardines http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-West%20End%20&%20Fringe-The%20Hunting%20Lodge&reviewsID=2748 |
So Gary Barlow didn’t shampoo his hair for 14 years. Sensible chap. I haven’t applied detergents and chemicals of any sort to mine for more than five years and it’s clean, sweet smelling, soft and manageable.
The scalp produces natural oils. The cosmetics industry wants us to wash then all away – at least once in three days according trichologist Anabel Kingsley from Philip Kingsley. Then, of course, you are expected to put them all back with another expensive bottle labelled “conditioner” or smarm it down with hair gel. My word, they see us coming don’t they? …
Read the rest of this article published by International Business Times: http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/i-havent-washed-my-hair-five-years-shampoo-con-1604318
John Lill CBE has been president of the Maidstone Symphony Orchestra since 1980 and his association with it goes ten years further back when he played his first concert with them, shortly after winning the Tchaikovsky Piano Competition. To this day, he generously plays an occasional concert with MSO and unassuming as he is, his presence in the hall has a palpable effect on both players and audience. He seems to bring out an extra edge in a band which always delivers competently but on this occasion they surpassed even their own high standards.
Lill’s account of Beethoven’s third piano concerto was unshowy but intense, the concentration showing only in a slight working of his mouth. It’s a treat to hear the concerto played at a speed which allows us to hear every note of Beethoven’s glorious C minor detail – a refreshing contrast to the usual prestissimo gallop most conductors want to impose on it. The triplets just before the end came across in this performance as an intelligent question and answer dialogue between piano and orchestra. Other high spots included the long cadenza full of virtuosic tension at the end of the first movement, which had me (and most of the rest the audience) on the edge of our seats, and the exquisite lyricism in the largo.
The Beethoven was sandwiched between Weber’s chirpy Oberon overture and Brahms’s most magnificent symphony – the Fourth and last. The Weber presents a challenging opening with its horn solo and muted strings – all very exposed before it leaps away into the first dance tune. It isn’t the easiest way to start a concert but it came off adequately.
And by the time we reached the vibrant warmth of the Brahms, all nervousness had gone and the John Lill effect had worked its magic. From the exuberant precision of the opening allegro through the delicacy (all that pizzicato!) in the middle movement to the initially ponderous, grandiloquent fourth movement, it was glorious. I once heard the late, great Antony Hopkins (the musicologist not the actor) give a talk for children about this last movement and he told them to remember “B-R-A-H-M-S Spells Brahms” and explained how to listen for the opening statement in various forms for the rest of the movement. If only there had been more children and young people in the audience at this concert to hear this enjoyable account of it.
For various reasons this was the first MSO concert I’ve managed to get to this season and I’m struck afresh by the quality and freshness. I think it is scaling new heights of achievement. Andrew Pearson is certainly the most charismatic leader the orchestra has had in a while and I’m sure he is part of the reason. The string sound is rich and rarely falters and – among other fine performers – Anna Binney, principal flautist – more than deserved the applause Brian Wright directed towards her at the end.
First published by Lark Reviews: http://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?p=3395
Thomas Carroll, looking as if he’s about to win a snooker tournament in a snazzy red waistcoat, has a knack of bending almost double to coax intricately nuanced pianissimo playing from his players. It’s effective too. Almost all the playing in this very pleasant concert was sensitive and well balanced.
After a momentarily ragged start Mozart’s K201, with all its sophisticated simplicity, soon settled into a suitably crisp, sparkling opening allegro with the following movements in careful contrast, For both this, and the Haydn which came next, the Brighton Philharmonic was reduced to just 36 players – strings with two horns and two oboes ensuring that the mood remained light, tight and classical.
The Haydn C major concerto (rediscovered as recently as 1961) is a resolutely cheerful work and multi-talented Carroll conducting from his cello appeared to smile from the sheer joy of the music almost continually. He achieved a fine rapport with the orchestra and his cello sound was lushly mellow especially in the beautiful Adagio and the well controlled Allegro Molto finale.
And so to the concluding Mendelssohn Italian Symphony for a happy ending to a sunny concert – and a few more players and instruments added to the mix. The opening was lively and incisive with some clearly articulated string work in the busy passages which typify much of Mendelssohn’s orchestral writing. One or two wobbly moments in the third movement were soon forgotten once we reached the Saltanella and the glorious conclusion which was played with panache.
First published by Lark Reviews: http://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?cat=3
It’s a remarkable achievement for a very young playwright (early 20s) to have got a play staged by Antic Face at Southwark Playhouse with Charlie Parham directing. Other feathers in his cap include getting a capacity house on press night with at least three front line critics in the audience. Alex MacKeith’s School Play has been published too – by Oberon Books.
All the signs were good and, in many ways, the play lives up to expectation. We are in a primary school where dynamics and tension are pretty extraordinary. Tests dominate the thinking because without certain test results the school won’t get the all-vital pupil premium money to fund things such as trips to the National History Museum. So the school brings in young high flying graduates to teach after school revision classes – half welcomed, half loathed by full-time staff. What a melting pot! And it was inspired by MacKeith’s own experience of working as a imported tutor in a London primary school.
At the heart of all this is a remarkably fine performance by Ann Ogbomo as Jo, the head teacher. Her character is under enormous stress both at work and at home. Ogbomo conveys that with verve, passion and control whether she’s taking deep breaths, weeping, shouting or visibly and audibly switching on “professionalism.” She’s a very engaging and adept actor to watch. Lovely work too from Oliver Dench as Tom, the young graduate who is funny, sardonic and, eventually devastated. Fola Evans-Akingbola completes the three person main cast with a pleasing performance as the school secretary. There are also a couple of nice cameos from Kevin Howarth as the gruff, grumpy caretaker and as a very angry, threatening parent. At the end of the play a chirpy child arrives in the form of Gemma Fray or Vida King.
Full marks to Anna Reid’s set too. The primary school atmosphere is immaculately observed and captured. Also good is the sound track of children singing – in assembly – used as scene breaks. Michael England is the sound designer.
So there’s plenty to admire and enjoy but the play itself isn’t (yet?) quite right. There are some very strong scenes – Jo’s long speeches to Tom in Act 3 hit hard, for example. And the arrival of the parent in the head’s office makes real drama. On the other hand there are too many stretches which are quite amusing but add very little to the thrust so they fall a bit flat. Several underdeveloped subplots make the narrative feel unsatisfying. Billed at 90 minutes but actually running one hour 40 minutes the play needs to be shorter and more direct – without the subplots. Alternatively it could be half an hour longer (and include an interval) which would enable all the loose ends – such as the relationship between Tom and Lara and Jo’s personal life – to be tied up.
First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Southwark%20Playhouse-School%20Play&reviewsID=2746
The Seagull
Hemar Theatre at Ognisko Polskie
|
The Seagull requires a large, potentially unwieldy cast and it’s good to see a professional group tackling it adeptly in a pretty small space. The Ognisco Polksie Hearth Club, which was new to me, occupies a very grand semi-detached house in South Kensington with a bar and restaurant on the ground floor. The two main reception rooms on the first floor, front to back, form a 140 seat theatre. Gigi Roberts and her international cast make imaginative use of the space which, obviously has no wings. The imaginary lake is in the distance behind the audience and there’s a deal of charging up the central aisle as characters move in and out of Irina Arkadina’s famous drawing room (attractively designed by Magdalena Rutkowska) where the action happens. It neatly conveys the sense of distance hedged by claustrophobic insularity which the play needs. There are some fine performances too. Hannah Keeley’s angry, unhappy Masha taking refuge from reality in snuff and hard liquour is nicely caught. Adam Cunis as Constantine, the misunderstood artistic son overshadowed by his flamboyant, self-obsessed mother, is a pleasingly naturalistic actor. Maria Hildebrand is good as stage-struck Nina too, all excitement, tragedy, flowing pale clothes and wild blonde hair. Less successful, though is Lynne O’Sullivan as Irina who has to be totally excessive to be believable and for the play to make sense. It should be her charismatic diva-like attitudes and manners which trigger the ultimate tragedy and keep Tregorin (Niall Bishop – suitably dishy and selfish) coming back for more. O’Sullivan’s take on the role is understated and doesn’t quite fit. The tender bandage-changing scene with Cunis – which eventually erupts into tension – works well, however. Two other problems with this show are that there are times when one senses well rehearsed actors speaking lines and making movements but there is little evidence of that vital listening to each other – and it’s that which marks out a competent performance from an excellent one. Second, as an amateur violinist I loved the duets played at the beginning of each half by Filip and Michal Cwizewicz but their presence was gratuitous because the music added nothing whatever to the action. Moreover I’m not sure whether anyone new to the play, would from this version, have understood why it’s called The Seagull. |
| First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-West%20End%20&%20Fringe-The%20Seagull&reviewsID=2744 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Half Moon Young People’s Theatre, Limehouse
|
This piece presents the experience of young women from a wide range of perspectives with the very talented Shala Nyx playing all the roles. Sometimes she’s a London teenager. Then she variously becomes an abused middle Eastern refugee, a soldier, a Midlands young mum and much more. Sometimes she is in conversation with a second character she is playing via Ed Sunman’s digital projection. Her performance is outstanding. When she disappears – very reluctantly – into a room with a man who wants sex in return for a bus ticket the Muslim girl next to me flinched several times. The sound effects made it understatedly graphic. The imaginative lighting, projection, animation and screen set – and the way the action segues in and out of filmic devices – is impressive too. And I have rarely seen a piece so full of issues. Members of the – predominantly Muslim – girls’ school party, alongside whom I saw it were each given lists of charities such as Amnesty International and LBTH Violence against Women and Girls at the end. They were also invited to attend free workshops at Half Moon the following weekend. It’s a very worthwhile attempt to create a thought provoking hour from real life stories – I have no doubt whatever that every cameo is based on or inspired by genuine testimony. War, as one of the Half Moon staff told the audience is the Q&A which followed the performance, is universal and always current. The problem with it is that it doesn’t make particularly good theatre. It’s very bitty and the narrative is confusing. Some of the girls sitting near me were quite restive because it wasn’t fully engaging their attention. |
| http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-West%20End%20&%20Fringe-her&reviewsID=2740 |
|
|
|
|
Duke of York’s Theatre
The stereotypes are so familiar: the overbearing garrulous mother, the timid daughter, the son who is itching to follow his long gone father – and finally the outsider who highlights what is going on in the Wingfields’ modest apartment. And yet in Tennessee Williams’ 1944 play, his first great success, each character is so poignantly drawn that this great classic of twentieth century theatre hits you square in the guts every time.
John Tiffany’s sharp but delicate take on The Glass Menagerie has transferred from Broadway with a cast which is three quarters American which adds another layer of authenticity. And what a cast they are. As Amanda Wingfield, Cherry Jones flounces, pleads, manipulates, rages and shows off, digging deep into the complexity of this troubled tense woman, an abandoned wife in denial who remembers the past as she would like it to have been rather than as it was. It’s a magnificent performance.
Kate O’Flynn is very strong as the pitiful, shy, disabled (in almost every sense) Laura. Michael Esper as Tom, who also acts as a quasi narrator “creating truth out of illusion”, is ill at ease, decent but desperate. Brian J Smith delights as the attractive – but also flawed in his way – Gentleman Caller, who comes to dinner and lets the audience see just how disfunctional the Wingfields really are, struggling in the 1930s south where cigarettes cost 15 cents a pack and Esper’s character is working in a warehouse to earn the 65 dollars a week the family are living on. “Time is the longest distance between two places” as Williams makes Tom observe.
It’s a glitteringly fine account of a play which explores fragile family dynamics – almost as fragile as the glass animals in Laura’s precious collection which she uses as a substitute for almost everything else. Williams called it a “memory play” and Tiffany makes us fully aware that we aren’t quite in real life, Each character is remembering the past differently. Remembered truth is a slippery concept, we realise as Kate O’Flynn’s Laura tells Smith’s character how she remembers him in the The Pirates of Penzance at high school but he barely acknowledges that it ever happened. And that scene between Laura and the Gentleman Caller is pointed up here as the saddest and affecting in the whole piece as we grope in the world of what might have been.
It’s an appropriately wistful, nicely judged interpretation of a cracking play.
