Image: Richard Jinman

So what happens if you give Juliet’s lines to Romeo and his to her thus making her a Montague and him a Capulet? You get a topical, thoughtful  take on the play which really makes you stop and think about why, even today, we often expect females to be more passive than males. You are also forced to reflect on the whole nature of loyalty, violence, knife crime and much more. This interpretation, set in London in 2021 (a positive Covid test becomes part of the plot)  and couched in Intermission’s trade mark seamless blend of street speak and Shakespeare, is effectively a powerful commentary on the play as we know it.

Juliet, for example, is in the garden – feisty and very interested –  while Romeo, more diffidently, is on the balcony.  It is Juliet who is banished at the end (“Your Uber’s waiting”) while Romeo’s sister, Capo, is keen get him on an aircraft and away to film school because that’s what he’s always wanted to do and she wants him out of the way. Then of course it’s Romeo who lies dead when Juliet returns – and the ending isn’t quite what Shakespeare gives us but I was deeply moved especially by the searing anguish of Megan Samuel as Capo.

One of the most startlingly effective ideas in this vibrant production is the chorus. Rather more Greek than Shakespearean a group of eight actors is threaded amongst the action watching, commenting, interjecting usually in very short burst of the original text. They act as an inner voice for characters on stage as well as making observations. It’s tight, neat and impressively synchronised. Asked in the post show question and answer session how they’d achieved it, one of them answered, chuckling: “With a lot of practice!” I also liked the way we get Friar and Lawrence, a pair who run a tattoo parlour as a cover for an illicit drugs business.

The twenty six members of the company role share so that, although they’re all involved there are two cast lists. I saw the Juliet Cast  which gave us Ophelia J Wisdom as Juliet and, my goodness how she develops the character in the “two hours traffic of our stage”. She starts as an everyday teenager and ends as a mature woman. It’s a very convincing performance.

Intermission Youth Theatre works with young people from across London who are helped to find a pathway away from risk or danger of various sorts through drama. Improvisations facilitate devising which Darren Raymond eventually converts into a script.  The standard of work they produce  is remarkable especially, this time, given the restrictions imposed by the pandemic.

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

This show is warm, silly, affectionate, whacky and very funny. But, actually it’s more than it seems on the surface. At the heart of all the surreality of this upbeat Christmas jolly lies an immigration story, questions about inclusion, adaptation, fitting in and a gentle euthanasia subplot. And that’s why it works. We get real emotion as well as escapist nonsense from this accomplished cast of seven, several of whom are actor-musos.

A pair of enterprising Tanzanian hyenas, whose English is perfect, steal the identities of two tourists eaten by a crocodile. The new Mr and Mrs Bold, tails hidden under their clothes, come to live in the former Bold home in Teddington – where they, and soon their two children, conceal their Hyena identity, get jobs and live more or less as if they were human beings. They laugh a lot, as hyenas do and Mr Bold (David Ahmad) works as a writer of cracker jokes and some of them are very good. They don’t get on with their neighbour (Sam Pay) and eventually mount a rescue operation for a threatened hyena in a safari park – and that’s most of the plot.

Julian Clary’s songs are bright, cheerful and catchy and with orchestrations and arrangements by Simon Wallace (on stage on keys)  they range over a whole spectrum of styles. The retro rock and roll number “There’s nothing keener than a hyena” is good fun, for example, with the word “Hyena” flown down on a big panel with flashing

James Button’s set is neat. We see a kitchen, a dining room and bedroom and at one point a simple but clever way of showing of two groups of hyenas tunnelling towards each other under a brick wall. And there’s a skeletal blue Skoda in which the Bolds drive round the safari park.

Of course you don’t have to work very hard to see that the Bolds, with their different ways, trying desperately hard to conform are like any other immigrants. It’s hilarious but also mildly poignant. And the story about Tony who has to be rescued because he’s old and the vets are going to put him down really pulls at the heart strings. Bear in mind, too, that Julian Clary wrote this so when rescued Tony chums up with Mr McNumpty we are wittily led to sense that they might have a future together beyond friendship.

I’m awarding the fourth star for two reasons. First the performance of Amanda Gordon as Mrs Bold is glorious. She communicates volumes with the merest look, sings beautifully and moves compellingly. Second, I loved the tuba (Sam Pay) in the orchestrations. It gives aural depth and adds an unusual sparky musical humour.

But the funniest joke of the evening (on press night) was not scripted. Sam Pay, resignedly and rhetorically, as Mr McNumpty: Who knows what’s been going on while I’ve been at the shop? Child in audience: Me!

This review was first published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/the-bolds/

Not that Jarman is in any sense a cosy play. The anguish, joy, anger and creativity of the titular artist and film maker is agonisingly caught by Mark Farelly – a fine actor (and the playwright) who seems to be making something of a speciality of plays about famous, troubled gay men. In the last year or so I have also seen him in Howerd’s End and Quentin Crisp: Naked Hope, both of which he wrote himself. Jarman, an 80-minute monologue is a more physical piece and, arguably, much more tragic as we trace Jarman through the appalling ravages of aids when he becomes “a refugee in my own body” facing not only the illness but the devastating judgements of others, including bishops.

We see Jarman in his famous garden, the details of which – an artist through and through – he describes with intense sensuality. We hear the horrors of his boarding school childhood, follow him through art school and into film making. We also enjoy the irony of his first job designing Don Giovanni for John Gielgud with all its emphasis on the hell and damnation which Jarman had long been threatened with. Eventually comes the Aids diagnosis and the bleak joy of settling to a life of celibacy with a young man who became his carer. “For the first time in my life I was in love” he says, telling the audience that he’d always been able to throw away ex-lovers like tangerine peel.

Mark Farelly’s performance is electric. He breathes his words, moves like rubber and has a knack of making his eyes glitter. Jarman is definitely in the room and at the end when he leaves the stage, the lights go up and Farrelly appears as himself you feel bereaved.

Also noteworthy is the poetic power of the text of this play.  Young weaves in quotations from John Donne and Shakespeare among others and every line she writes is driven by a very distinctive rhythm – often rooted in things Jarman said and wrote. It’s well researched work.

And, this is simple low budget theatre. It’s all achieved with a roll of brown paper, a sheet, a chair and a torch. With acting and writing of this calibre you don’t need “production values”.

First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/jarman/

I blame Geoffrey Chaucer. Over six centuries ago he created one of the most interesting women in English literature (until the nineteenth century, anyway). Alyson, The Wife of Bath is not a nun, young virgin, princess, witch or prostitute. She is independent, forceful and sexually active – enthusiastically so – with five husbands, literally under her belt. And she has found a vibrant, entertaining, truthful new lease of life in Zadie Smith’s play The Wife of Willesden which is written in unforced but flowing verse just to add another layer of referential cleverness and remind us of the source.

We’re immersively in a traditional mahogany-countered pub

(totally convincing set by Rupert Jones). I suppose there’s a hint of the Tabard Inn where Chaucer’s pilgrims foregathered and chatted but this is 21st century Brent and it’s modelled on the pub over the way on Kilburn High Road. Alvita, the titular wife of Willesden (Clare Perkins)  is telling the other nine drinkers about her husbands and sharing her thoughts. The first two thirds is effectively a long monologue with dramatic illustrations from a talented, versatile cast who play all the roles often at hilarious speed. Marcus Aldolphy, for instance, is a treat in his brief appearances as Black Jesus, another actor holding a brass tray (usually used for pub glasses) behind his head as a halo. And Crystal Condie delights as the urbane author at the beginning, later becoming Alvita’s best friend among other roles.C

Perkins struts, hunches in exasperation and times every line to perfection. There’s sex, pathos, sadness, irritation and honesty all in the mix. “I hate anyone who tries to rein me in” she declares. She has a wonderful way with facial expressions too. One husband (Andrew Frame) is a bit past it and we see her trying, unsuccessfully, to get him going. The exasperated look on her face is a brilliant comic moment in a show which is not short of them. It’s a bravura performance and I hope she wins lots of awards for it.

Because she is clearly a character who interests him very much Chaucer gives his Alyson the longest section of his prologue – and twice as many lines as she gets for the tale she tells on the journey. Smith follows the same pattern giving about an hour to the prologue and half an hour to the story in this 90 minute, interval-free show. The story is a variation on the traditional loathly damsel  tale whereby a bachelor finally accepts an ugly, elderly woman (Ellen Thomas – good) on her own terms and is rewarded by her turning into a beautiful maiden. It’s very hard to make that work in 2021 even if you throw high production values at it (I loved the giant jelly fish). It feels like an add-on. And although it’s mildly funny it’s effectively a play-within-a-play and it’s too long. Actually I’d have been happy  to have stopped at the end of the marvellous, ingenious, immaculately directed,  five star  prologue section. But I’ve docked a star because of the last half hour.  And now I’ll duck below the parapet because the press night audience was pretty excited about the whole show …

First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/the-wife-of-willesden/

After two long years it’s a real treat to be back in the room with the ebulliently enthusiastic West Wickham Operatic Society. The cast and everyone involved with this show were clearly on a totally justifiable high.

And there is a lot to like about this production of the ever-popular Kinky Boots directed by Kevin Gauntlett who also plays the factory foreman, George, stuck in his own time warp but, like almost everyone else, on a voyage of open-minded discovery. Price and Sons, a shoe factory in Northampton narrowly avoids the buffers by a switch to niche marketing – making strong female boots for men. Most people in the audience know the story. The 2005  film did very well as did the West End  musical version and tour.

Danielle Dowsett’s choreography is splendidly slick and full of visual interest.  She has every single chorus member drilled to be totally present and a dynamic part of the action at all times.  She also gets some fine work out of the chorus of drag queens although, for me, they don’t look glamorous enough. Some of their make-up inches towards grotesque.

Michael Simpson’s lighting makes every scene look good, especially the catwalk in Milan. And the eleven-piece pit band, led by MD James Hall is outstanding.

Amongst the principals, Kemal Ibrahim  – “triple threat” fully sewn up – is a show stealer as Lola. He struts, purrs, and gleams in his nightclub numbers, sings in a range of moods and brings a really poignant sense of vulnerability to the nakedness of finally finding the courage to be his gay, male self. The toilet scene is always the best bit of any production of Kinky Boots and Ibrahim gives us a warm, moving performance here with Stephen Bradley (good actor) as Charlie.

On the other hand this Kinky Boots felt under-rehearsed on its opening night. There were too many missed mic cues, tuning problems in the singing and technical theatre problems including clumsy scene changes – you aren’t supposed to hear the thumps and bumps of things being moved about. And please could this company work a bit harder on diction in general and consonants in particular ? Several cast members are inaudible when speaking and many words disappear during the singing.

First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/kinky-boots-2/

Winsome Pinnock’s powerful play about drug trafficking (premiered at The Royal Court Upstairs in 1996) hasn’t dated at all. Its issues are still alarmingly pertinent and, of course, it’s good to see an all female play, featuring lots of actors of colour, with meaty parts for eight women, several of whom do some neat doubling.

Bridie (Trudi Dane) is running an international drug trafficking business. She’s glamorous, beautifully dressed and charismatically convincing so, of course, young women fall into her hands whether they’re fed up in Jamaica, lost in London or anywhere else. Dane brings an interesting combination of cheerful ruthlessness and, at base, vulnerability to the role. I had, however, difficulty hearing some of her lines at the beginning.

There is some intelligent acting in this production – skilfully exploited by director, Lande Belo. Tyan Jones stands out as the ebullient Lou, full of joie de vivre and carefully delivered Jamaican accent. But she wants more and a trip to London might just provide it although her sister Lyla (Oyinka Yusuff – good) takes a bit of persuading.

I also liked Vanessa Tedi Wilson’s Allie, the young shop assistant who has run away from her home in the West Midlands (judging by her accent) because, we eventually learn, she feels let down by her mother and the latter’s abusive boyfriend. She has a little money and no street wisdom. The rather predictable scene in which she is mugged/drugged and robbed in the park put me in mind of the cat and the fox in Pinocchio. Tedi Wilson seems wooden in her opening scenes (first night nerves?) but eventually brings real depth to the role as she begins to work for Bridie and then, when she has to, finds ways of working though the inevitable consequences.

This play made me think about a lot of things which are outside my everyday experience. There are some very smooth, predatory operators out there ready to take on the vulnerable and delude them into feeling secure and cared for – the Fagin type. And it’s even more chilling, somehow when it’s women exploiting women. Moreover, there are practical issues: I had never stopped to think how desperately uncomfortable it must be to carry a packet inside your body. “You just need more lubricant” purrs Trudi Gane’s character at one point. Ughh. Never let it me said that theatre doesn’t educate you.

First published by Sardines: https://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/review/mules/