Photos: Robert Piwko

Alan Ayckbourn’s 1998 play was written for the ‘Year of Reading’ in 1999. Effectively a witty homage to the power of books, it’s ideal for half term family viewing.

Kevin (James Forth) is an avid reader and we first see him on the top bunk in his bedroom reading a novel about a Los Angeles detective named Rockfist Slim. Then he falls asleep and suddenly he and Rockfist are confronting each other and landing in a series of books (Kidnapped, Beginner’s Guide to Chess and MR James’s ghost stories among others). It’s like The Magic Faraway Tree spliced with the quest element of The Wizard of Oz because Kevin – who is, of course, au fait with every book they arrive in –  faces a lot of danger and wants very much to get back to his bedroom. Interesting point of metaphysics: Kevin is at risk from the ubiquitous shape-shifting villainess but all the other characters are invincible and immortal because they’re fictional and will live on in readers’ heads whatever anyone tries to do to them.

All the acting in this production is strong. Forth excels as Kevin, a boy whose head is full of stories. He blinks, challenges, concedes, grows and yet remains convincingly boyish throughout.  Cranfield – with great competence –  deliberately presents a stereotypical US investigator with a harsh LA accent and an uncompromising line in threats and insults. Initially he’s very hostile to Kevin but the two gradually become buddies resisting a common enemy.

In support of the two of them is a talented four-person ensemble who seamlessly play a whole series of other parts in an impressive range of voices. Lucy Moss, for example, is outstanding as the simpering, lisping Red Riding Hood, Rockfist’s quarry Monique, who is French, and a revoltingly saccharine story teller among other roles.

I should think this cast – and John Chapman, their director –  had a lot of fun putting this together – especially the very amusing Woobleys scene in which all the dialogue consists of the word “woobley”, based on a book Kevin’s four year old sister left in his room. It’s a good production.

As for me, Ayckbourn plays seem to be like buses. You don’t see one for ages then two come along at once. This was the second one I’ve seen in nine days. The Boy Who Fell into a Book is, though, in a very different mood form Woman in Mind. What a versatile and prolific playwright Mr Ayckbourn is.

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  Photos: Robert Piwko

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First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/the-boy-who-fell-into-a-book/

This show is full of interesting, innovative ideas – arguably too many.  It is also characterised by naturalistic acting, fine verse-speaking and (mostly) clear story-telling coaxed by director, Yohann Philip from many cast members. Charlotte Holmes, in this gender-blind show, gives us, for example, an outstanding Mercutio. Totally believable, louche, jokey and vulnerable, she is as good as anyone I’ve ever seen in this role especially during her drunken Queen Mab speech.

So what – you might have been wondering all your life – did Capulet and Montague fall out about in the first place? In this version they were close friends, Londoners, who went into business together until they quarrelled and opened two rival fast food businesses which sit at either side of the stage and give us a lot of pre-show vibrance. When the expositional brawl breaks out in the opening scene it’s between fast food staff in baseball or chef hats goading and  attacking each other with brooms by the wheely bins. It actually works pretty well although inevitably it throws up narrative discrepancies later in the play.

Maddy Jones, for example, is a laid back, blue haired druggie in a Sex Pistols tee shirt which is hard to reconcile with the religious authority she still, apparently, has. Romeo (Edward Godfrey) addresses her as “Holy Father” which jars. And, even having reflected on it overnight, I still have no idea why she gets arrested mid-play but continues to dish out dangerous drugs while in police custody.

Godfrey’s Romeo is suitably young, lithe and attractive enough for a girl like Juliet (Gina Cormack) to fall for him at first sight. This production is pretty faithful to Shakespeare’s text (even when it works against the directorial concept) and Cormack, whose character gets the play’s best poetry, speaks the lines with  exceptional dewy eyed conviction. She does well with Juliet’s rapid transition from a young innocent to a woman of mature determination too.

David Frost’s Capulet – every inch a Londoner – is excellent,  especially in the scene in which he loses his temper with his daughter and curses her and I liked Tania Pais’s gentle intelligent take on the nurse.  And watch out for Maddy Baskerville whose delightful Benvolio gets all the appropriate chattiness, intelligence and concern perfectly.  Louise Norman’s Prince is strong too, especially in the opening prologue which is framed as a live-filmed TV interview on the street.

Frost doubles as lead singer of the four piece rock band which from time to time lines the back of the stage and he both sings and plays guitar with great accomplishment. Nonetheless there is too much of this in this show. They play very well but it doesn’t add much to the thrust of the drama. Moreover, Anne-Lise Vassoille’s “atmospheric” sound track which starts and stops rather bumpily in places becomes an irritant. This is a play, not a film, and the words tell you all you need to know.

I was also uneasy about Romeo and Juliet’s big wedding party. It provides an excuse for more band numbers but the whole point was that it was a secret wedding. That’s why Capulet could insist that Juliet now, after the death of Tybalt (Emike Umolu), must marry Paris (Daniel Aarons). Then there’s the conceit that we’re being whisked to different parts of London on the Tube, complete with dead pan announcements to tell us where we are. It was quite funny the first time although the point of it passed me by initially and it wears thin after a while.

Other high spots included the witty inclusion of Macbeth quotes in the scene in which the servants clear up after the Capulet party. The use of dramatic dance (choreographed by Tanisha Knight) to evoke the depth of passion between Romeo and Juliet is imaginative.  And, as is fashionable these days, Shakespeare’s text is decorated with occasional modern expressions. I liked, for instance, the messenger telling Friar Lawrence that he couldn’t deliver the message to Romeo because he’d had to “self isolate”.

Yes, despite the flaws and inconsistencies there’s much to enjoy in this production.

First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/romeo-and-juliet-5/

As the lights went down to signal the end of Peter Gill’s new 70-minute play, the man (fellow critic I’ve known for years) next to me murmured: “That was just too close and painful.”  I know what he meant. Something in the Air is beautiful at almost every level but, my goodness it’s poignant: almost unbearably so. And it’s the acuteness of the observation which does it, in both the writing and the high quality acting, immaculately directed by the playwright and Alice Hamilton.

Colin (Ian Gelder) and Alex (Christopher Goodwin) are in a care home. There may have been a bumpy gay relationship in the past with some joyous memories and some devastating ones – Alex, for example, has at one stage been married to a woman and fathered two sons. Or perhaps they’ve met in the care home and each is remembering other relationships. Now very frail, they sit quietly holding hands and reminiscing but Alex’s dementia is far advanced and they talk in disjointed monologues rather than talking to each other. They are lost in memory – as it were. Everyday life is, in contrast,  evoked by Clare (Claire Price) who is Colin’s niece and Andrew Woodall as Alex’s son, Andrew. They talk across the old men about travel arrangements, medical appointments, Andrew’s family and more – with a subtext that there might, just might, be flicker of interest between them.

It will be a long time before I forget Goodwin’s half closed eyes, fumbling fingers and vacant glances when he’s not talking about the distant past. Anyone who has ever dealt with dementia will recognise the ghastly truth of this fine performance. Gelder’s character is slightly more alert and, movingly, looks after Alex adjusting the rug on his knees and repeatedly asking him if he wants anything. It’s almost unbearably accurate.

Woodall’s performance as the son who finds his father’s sexuality repugnant and clearly comes to the care home, unsmiling but distantly dutiful, is impressively truthful too. So is Price’s over-bright kindness.

Meanwhile the pasts of Colin and Alex are mirrored by two different young men Nicholas (James Schofield) and Gareth (Sam Thorpe-Spinks) side stage. It connotes a sense of universality and timelessness in the shared experiences which often include anger, distress and disappointment. Both actors do a competent job, Schofield, for example, smiles in a glitteringly attractive, irresistibly attractive come-on way and it’s totally believable.  Their presence provides lots of opportunity for cross-current conversation linking past and present which highlights the confusion, especially, in Alex’s mind.

A new play by Peter Gill is always welcome. And we go to the theatre to feel emotion. This one certainly hits you between the eyes.

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  Photos: Steve Gregson

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There’s a great deal of rather attractive warm wistfulness in this new musical. It’s based on the 1982  Bill Forsyth film which I have never seen so, presumably unlike most of the audience, I took it at face value rather than making comparisons.

We’re in North West Scotland during the oil boom. An American company, represented by Mac (Gabriel Ebert) wants to buy the whole village in order to build a refinery. The well defined locals – very pleasing ensemble work – are divided between desperately wanting to become “filthy dirty rich” (good dance rhythm) and concern for the beautiful environment  which has been home to their families for hundreds of years. Line such as “Places change. It’s people you need to hold on to” and “You can’t eat scenery” pepper the dialogue. There’s also a subplot about searching for a comet in “the best skies in the world” and it is that which eventually saves the day – sort of.

So how do you depict all this in the theatre-in-the-round setting of the Minerva Theatre? Frankie Bradshaw’s outstanding set combined with Ash J Woodward’s video designs do a first rate, totally convincing job. The back wall is lined with a huge white concave screen arching towards the audience. On it we get Shetland’s glorious skies, the aurora borealis, stars and more. Meanwhile some of the rostra are removed, not far into the piece, to reveal a sandy beach at the front. It’s both ingenious and evocative. At other times, in contrast we see flown down strip lights and wheeled on desks with lots of phones for office scenes in America and a homely bar which is trundled on and off for pub scenes back in Scotland.

Inevitably Mac finds things and people to love in the place he has come to destroy and eventually goes native until, regretfully, he has to leave because circumstances change. Ebert develops the character effectively – initially brash and determined and ultimately a lonely figure of loss. His scenes with Stella (Lillie Flynn – lovely work) are moving. Paul Higgins as the local hotelier, who also does legal advice and accountancy, finds all the appropriately conflicted pragmatism tempered with loyalty and uncertain love for Stella, is strong.

This show is, however, a musical not a straight play and the music is, for the most part, seamlessly grafted in rather than bolted on. The first rate seven piece band is seated on a raised stage right platform on which actors sometimes appear briefly too. Songs often start as speech – especially from Hilton Macrae, the wise beachcomber who gives a strong performance but evidently isn’t a singer. Occasionally we get vibrant ensemble numbers such as “That’d Do Me” and when Ebert gets going he has a fine light tenor voice. Several of the women, especially, Flynn sing with rich clarity too.

It’s a bit obvious to end Act 1 with an energetic ceilidh and then start Act 2 with a hangover scene but it’s a minor gripe.

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  Photos: Manuel Harlen

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Photos: Robert Piwko

Mosquitoes, which premiered at National Theatre in 2017, is a very busy play. In nearly three hours of relentless intensity we ricochet from parenting to sorority to bereavement to dementia, intimate teenage images shared online and complex physics among many other side issues. It’s all a bit indigestible and given the wealth and breadth of material might have been better as two or even three plays.

Nonetheless this potentially difficult piece is in competent hands  with director Anna Jones and her cast of nine. The central plot presents two sisters, Jenny (Emily Carmichael) and Alice (Rachel Bottomley) daughters of a retired high achieving scientist, Karen (Amanda Waggot – nice performance). Alice is a successful scientist working on the Hadron Collider in Geneva with a troubled teenaged son Luke (Andrew Mortimer). In contrast Jenny is a smoking, drinking low achiever desperate for a child. There is a powerful love/hate relationship between them, predicated on undercurrents of jealousy, admiration and shared background.

Jenny is a huge and meaty role and Emily Carmichael is a fine, intelligent actor who makes her character by turns mercurial, changeable, distraught and funny. She’s also more practical than her sister. Jenny may only be selling medical insurance for a living but she cares for their declining mother and understands her nephew’s problems better than his mother does. It’s a nuanced performance and I really like the way Carmichael listens and speaks with her eyes.

Rachel Bothamley gives us an engaging contrast as the patronising Alice, devoted to her work but struggling in her personal life. There are a lot of tears and angst and one feels really sorry for her ever-decent boyfriend Henri (James Johnston – good) who, in the end can’t cope with it.

There is a problem, though with staging in the round and I’ve not seen Tower Theatre configured in this way before. It works neatly enough in the space but, inevitably some of the dialogue is delivered facing away from most of the audience. And when the text is as wordy and visceral as this the tendency is to hit if fast and furious in order to be naturalistic. In this production that quite often creates an audibility problem, particularly with Mortimer – otherwise a strong and interesting actor. However convincingly you say the words if the audience can’t hear them clearly there’s a communication lapse.

I do understand that a non-professional company does not have access to the breadth of casting opportunities that a professional one does but it is a bit odd when it eventually becomes clear (sort of) that Luke’s friend Nathalie (Bella Hornby – good actor) is meant to be Indian. Suddenly, three quarters of the way through the play she mentions racism – yet another issue! – and you think “What?”.

The play is mostly set during the famous Higgs boson breakthrough and we get two long soliloquies from Luke Owen as “The Boson”. Leaving aside the thought that his science, speculation and observations may belong in a different play, Owen is very good indeed. He commands the stage with apparent insouciance, tempered with huge assertions about the end of the world, eyes darting and hands expressive. I’d be quite happy to see him do a 60 minute one man play, sometime.

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  All photos: Robert Piwko

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