Author: Girloutside Page 8 of 9

Peter Briffa’s Country Life is the very first play to be produced by Player-Playwrights, London’s oldest writing and acting co-operative, and transfers to the Old Red Lion this week following a successful run at the Camden Fringe.

It is unusual when audience members have to walk across a well-manicured lawn and step over attractive garden foliage to reach their seats and even more unusual when the piece of theatre they have come to witness features such an experienced, distinguished three-strong cast, the combined age of which is at least 200.

The opening scene appears to begin to deliver what the play’s title evokes. Jim and Barbara, both seemingly content in their senior years, have reunited for the first time since school for the funeral of Julia, the mutual friend Jim has recently reconnected with through Facebook.

In the funeral’s wake, they relax in the peaceful, idyllic back garden of Barbara’s bed-ridden mother, enjoying tea and cake, musing over bonfires and dead badgers, reminiscing with fondness about days of yore. The start is, perhaps deliberately, painstakingly slow, but serves to pave the way for the twists, turns and complexities that follow.

Matters start to hot up with the entrance of Barbara’s neighbour. David Forest’s neurotic, nosy former policeman, Kenneth, creates overwhelming feelings of antipathy countered with sharp, dry wit, as he becomes immediately suspicious (and, as we later find, jealous) of Chris Bearne’s charismatic silver fox, Jim, whose refreshing new energy clearly threatens to interfere with Kenneth’s plans to woo Barbara.

Marji Campi creates an interesting contrast with the two men, her character beautifully understated, somewhat complacent. Accusations and bitterly caustic remarks fly whenever she leaves the garden and, as the plot unfolds and secret pasts are uncovered, homosexuality (is he, or isn’t he?), bribery, corruption, sibling rivalry and even murder are thrown into the mix. We are left wondering whether any of these people are actually who they claim to be and moreover, who is duping who?

Briffa’s concept not only serves to gradually smash to pieces all the clichés and common conceptions associated with old age, but explores the ever-expanding landscape of social media with its capacity to shape and change the lives of all kinds of people.

Country Life starts to do what is says on the tin, then turns it upside down and shakes it up. Quietly entertaining, brilliantly original.

Bound is Jesse Briton’s first project as both writer and director and was premiered to critical acclaim at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2010 by Bear Trap, the young and innovative theatre company he formed with one of the play’s stars, Joe Darke.

Now, Southwark Playhouse’s inimitable, dank vault provides the perfect setting, with most of the action ensuing aboard a trawler as six Devon fishermen brave the turbulent seas on the eventful, traumatic final voyage they never expected to take.

The dramatic reaches and effects of recession are examined as the men find themselves flung together in a confined space under near impossible circumstances and relationships are tested against the backdrop of one man’s competitive desire to avoid financial ruin with little regard for the consequences. The voices of reason and experience clash with both unabashed arrogance and tragic lack of awareness as the characters veer toward their painfully inevitable conclusion.

The six-strong cast is sensational throughout, the actors’ ease with their roles always obvious. Thomas Bennett’s sensitive portrayal of Kerdzic, the bewildered, unknowing Polish agency worker is of particular note as is Joe Darke’s Graham, who handles the gradual transition between strident flamboyance and uncontrollable panic masterfully.

Occasionally, especially in more raucous moments when tempers fly, some of the hilarious dialogue is lost, but this is largely a symptom of the venue’s acoustics which in turn actually lend themselves marvellously to the wistful, note-perfect singing of old sea shanties between scenes.

A compelling and moving piece of theatre which left this reviewer (and, judging by the standing ovation, the majority of the audience) completely spellBound (sorry!) and anticipating the future endeavours of Bear Trap with relish.

Sadie Shimmin and Pat Starr portray the troubled protagonists in this darkly humorous, hard-hitting production of Marsha Norman’s Pulitzer Prize-winning drama, ‘night, Mother, at Islington’s intimate Old Red Lion.

This two-character play tells the story of Jessie Cates, who is anxious to put everything in order before she kills herself, and her mother Thelma, who wants desperately to prevent her daughter’s violent demise. There is nothing like an impending suicide to prompt an arousing heart-to-heart, and as Jessie busies herself in an attempt to ensure her elderly mother’s needs will be met in her absence, all the possible reasons behind her shocking decision are exposed. What begins as a startlingly matter-of-fact exchange concerning Jessie’s plan rapidly evolves into a stirring debate exploring delicate family issues.

Sadie Shimmin’s Jessie exudes an unabashed, quiet determination which is beautifully countered by Pat Starr’s mounting panic as she flounders about Katharine Heath’s imaginative set. Paul Stacey’s insightful direction ensures the intensity never rises above an uncomfortable level and despite occasionally apparent second-night nerves, the actors achieve a potent chemistry, the effortless ease of their close relationship poignantly tainted by the daughter’s failing mental health and tragic insistence on self-destruction.

This production deals sensitively with difficult issues and can only gather momentum and intensify its already powerful effect as the run progresses.

Thick is the creation of Rick Bland, a Reduced Shakespeare Company veteran who recently premiered this, his first play, in Edinburgh. Writing, producing and starring in what can only be described as a black comedy, he relays the touching tale of Rudolph, a cerebrally challenged young man whose backward state is a result of his born-again, bigoted, ‘non-alcoholic gin’ supping mother dropping him on his head when he was a baby.

Jumping back and forth to various times in Rudolph’s childhood and adolescence, the play depicts the series of events in the emotional rollercoaster that leads up to Mama’s funeral, revealing the world through Rudolph’s child-like eyes as he interacts with a variety of people.

The acclaim Bland has already enjoyed for this performance comes as no surprise; the character is tenderly created with every facet of his ‘complicated’ nature thoroughly explored. Innocent, lovable and incredibly funny, Rudolph’s emotional depth (real tears!) is staggering. In addition, his capacity for empathy, his inability to dislike or begrudge anybody for anything and his extraordinary talent to spout perfect logic at exactly the right moment are completely believable, making for a truly captivating and imaginative piece of theatre.

The comic timing and equally skilful performances of the rest of the cast ensure there is never a boring moment. Genevieve Adam, Barbara Barnes and Gary Fannin primarily take the roles of Rudolph’s family, but flit seamlessly between these and the smaller parts of more minor characters, working well with Bland to generate an emotive mix of comedy and heart-rending tragedy.

The 90 minutes flew. Coupled with the modern, attractive setting that is the intimate 80-seat New Diorama, this is an evening not to be missed.

It isn’t often you go to the theatre on a Friday night to feel yourself in danger of becoming an accessory to murder. But if this is the effect this UK premiere of Robert Thomas’s Eight Women aims to achieve, it certainly succeeds.

Set in the intimacy of a comfortable living room complete with After Eight mints (nice touch!), this is a real comedy thriller. In a room at the back of the auditorium, the man of the house has been found murdered. As we are introduced to our eight suspects, we find every female stereotype represented; the bored wife, the nervy sister-in-law and the ungrateful mother-in-law, joined by the loyal housekeeper, the naughty French-cum-Welsh maid, the flighty sister and the petulant and dutiful daughters.

As high drama ensues amidst every cliché you would expect from a classic whodunnit – poisoned dogs, a severed phone line and horrendous winter weather preventing escape – the various females’ predicaments, agendas and conflicts with one another in relation to the victim are revealed. Bitch fights erupt and events spiral into farcical chaos with none of the black humour lost in Donald Sturrock’s clever translation. There are some side-splitting one-liners delivered with superb comic timing, all in the absence of the one emotion you might expect; grief. Elgiva Field’s brilliant direction ensures perfect use of the space, the ladies’ constant thundering up and down the centre aisle towards the hidden room guaranteeing audience involvement.

Sasha Waddell’s Regan is little more than a caricature, but this is perhaps the aim; a ball of paranoid neurosis tormented with unrequited love, she careers about the set like Jennifer Saunders on speed, never failing to entertain. Tamara Hinchco gives one of the best portrayals of a comic drunk I have ever witnessed and Clara Andersson is deliciously malevolent as ‘evil’ Aunt Zinka. The real show-stealer, though, is young Sophie Kennedy Clark who shines throughout, exploring every facet of her teenaged character with ease until the play’s end when she becomes the commanding, centre-stage lynchpin, drawing events to a close and orchestrating the inevitable twist…

Eight Women is one of those good old-fashioned hoots we should all be treated to now and again. Catch it whilst you can… and watch your back!

The Exonerated relays the true stories of six wrongly accused individuals sent to Death Row through dialogue excerpted from letters, interviews, case files and the public record. The protagonists’ accounts intermingle throughout to expose not only some horrific events and unthinkable treatment born from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but a collective, indomitable human spirit which is to conquer the corrupt American justice system as truth is finally revealed.

Although there is absolutely no interaction between the characters, this distinguished and accomplished cast achieves the perfect balance. With the exception of Derek Griffiths’ Delbert, whose enlightened interjections as he moves deftly and purposefully about the stage cast him in the role of detached onlooker, the characters are mostly motionless. Yet Jaclyn McLoughlin’s clever direction ensures the feeling is always one of eerie unity; even without touching or speaking, these people are inextricably and poignantly linked, somehow hearing every word that is uttered.

Lisa Eichorn’s Sunny is beautifully understated. Gentle, accepting and softly spoken, she relates the tragic details of her sixteen lost years in a way that exudes pathos but which never fails to invoke admiration for her incredible strength.

Glenn Carter’s Gary is similarly philosophical as he tells of his murdered parents and various survival mechanisms. Unobtrusiveness does not negate his powerful presence and we are continually drawn to his wistful stare as the others speak. Worthy also of particular mention is Ian Porter, whose character Kerry is incorrectly branded a homosexual and appallingly abused by other inmates in jail. His accounts of this and the death of his beloved brother are both sensitive and incredibly moving.

The death penalty remains a way of life in Texas and many other US states. The Exonerated is a potent reminder of this and, for this reason alone, well worth a look.

The Southwark Playhouse is a fantastic venue, almost like an extension of its neighbour, the London Dungeon, with exposed brickwork, red satin drapery and the trains rumbling overhead.

For this production, one enters the auditorium to the atmospheric sound of lapping water. Garance Maneur’s striking set dominates the space. An ingenious concoction, it depicts an old pier which, in the designer’s words, is intended to “represent the element of transition between the river and the land”. Marneur certainly achieves his aim: as the action ensues, the set almost becomes a character in its own right, adapting fluidly to the fast-paced action of the piece.

My memories of Huckleberry Finn are happy childhood ones. I read Mark Twain’s novels at an early age and spent many a contented tea-time enjoying episodes of the Canadian 1980s television series starring Ian Tracey and Sammy Snyders. What I failed to acknowledge as a young child were Twain’s vital messages and themes. In the novel, his criticism of entrenched discriminatory attitudes and the powerful undercurrent of racism and slavery flow as surely beneath the depiction of romantic, idyllic river-life as the makeshift raft which carries fugitives Huck and Jim on their journey down the Mississippi river.

This adaption does not fail to bring to life the colourful descriptions of people, places and outlandish events its source is noted for. Graeme Dalling’s Huck and Joe Speare’s Jim perfectly embody Twain’s enduring images of escape and liberty as Jim attempts to free himself from slavery, and Huck shuns the boring confinement of “civilised life”. Whilst this Huck is very believable as a young innocent going through all the pains and dilemmas of becoming a man in a morally flawed society, he is just too clean-cut to be a real runaway urchin. Speare’s performance is sensitive and flawless, a deeply human, father-like portrayal of a man who faces an agonisingly uncertain future. Of the supporting cast, it is Jos Vantyler who really shines as Tom Sawyer and a variety of other minor characters, moulding himself effortlessly with the changing scenery.

Back in 1855, when his novel was published, Twain jovially threatened anyone that tried to find a plot in it, with death. Unfortunately, this production remains true to the original in this sense too. Whilst the desire to bring Twain’s narrative to the stage by mimicking his written style is admirable, I doubt anybody without prior knowledge of the novel would know what was going on most of the time. Many great novels pride themselves on being ‘plotless’ but I am not sure such a medium translates as well to the stage. I would have liked to have seen some less rambling depictions of certain episodes, perhaps even with some narration to connect and explain them.

For most people the mention of Kenneth Grahame’s timeless classic The Wind in the Willows evokes warm childhood recollections of gentle bedtime stories. Furry animals whiling away their days on rivers and a flamboyant, mischievous toad causing regular mayhem.

Few, however, are aware of the extraordinary tale behind this much-celebrated book and it’s this that is the subject of David Gooderson’s The Killing of Mr Toad. The opening scene introduces Grahame’s widow, Elspeth. Living alone, she barely eats and barely washes, spending her days reminiscing, taking delivery of letters and gifts from admirers of her late husband’s work and talking to his photograph.

Her wandering thoughts soon translate into a full-blown musical celebration of The Wind in the Willows, its four principal characters expertly portrayed by the male members of the company. Animals then morph into humans as the story of the Grahames’ meeting, courtship and eventual marriage unfolds.

Both Elizabeth Counsell and Jeffrey Perry give stellar performances as the protagonists with Perry’s transition from nervous, subservient Mole to Grahame, his childlike creator, a real joy to behold. The marriage is not a happy one; sexually unresponsive, emotionally aloof, and often away from home, Grahame lives in a world of fantasy and ‘private’ dreams which exclude his wife.

They do, however, produce a son. Alastair, affectionately nicknamed ‘Mouse’. He’s born blind in one eye and although his parents dote on him, they neglect him, sending him away to school, failing to visit on his birthday or to acknowledge other important events. Despite this he has a wayward, headstrong nature, demonstrating his regular disappointments to his parents through exuberant play-acting and bouts of song. It is the boisterous, fun-loving character of his young son which inspires Grahame’s creation of his most famous and beloved fictional character.

Leo Conville is outstanding throughout, seamlessly evolving from the swaggering, pretentious Toad into young Mouse, portraying his early childhood and troubled stages of his adolescence with ease. This is a young man who fails to fit in; eccentric and academically and socially unsuccessful, he undergoes unproductive stints at Eton and Oxford University, before finally committing suicide on a railway track three days before his 20th birthday.

Her son’s death is recorded as accidental, but the question of the true circumstances plagues Elspeth for the rest of her life. Counsell really shines here; from the stricken howl of the bereaved mother to her gentle, continuing search for the truth at the end of the piece, she effortlessly evokes real pathos.

Unusual, imaginative and superbly acted, this is a wonderful theatrical experience. At times extremely funny, at others deeply touching, it achieves exactly the right balance of humour and tragedy and works particularly well in the intimacy of the Finborough.

Both Tony-nominated and Obie award-winning, downtown New York icon Justin Bond has an impressive CV. He has toured the world as the Kiki half of legendary performance duo Kiki & Herb, headlining at venues as prestigious as Carnegie Hall, Sydney Opera House and the South Bank Centre and on and off Broadway.  His previous solo show, “Glamour Damage” had its world premiere at Soho and he has since starred in the acclaimed John Cameron Mitchell film, “Shortbus”. This is the London premiere of Bond’s new show, “Lustre”, which has been critically acclaimed on the other side of the Atlantic.

Bond has clearly cultivated a loyal cult following and as the predominately male audience fill the intimate space that is the Soho to the strains of Antony and The Johnsons, there is an air of eager anticipation. The stage is dressed lavishly with sparkly drapes and other paraphernalia, creating, along with the total darkness into which the auditorium is plunged when Bond makes his entrance, the ambience of a sweaty New York cabaret joint.

What ensues is an hour and a half’s worth of glitzy entertainment designed to celebrate, as Bond explains, ‘everything trans’. We are treated to evocative, over-the-top stories and banter laced with sexual politics, references to current affairs (the current global financial crisis and the Presidential Elections, to name two) and undoubtedly all kinds of other ‘in’ jokes that escaped me. Bond makes a fantastic woman, showcasing some spectacular outfits and a sickeningly good pair of legs. He also sings, accompanied on piano by Our Lady J, who, a cross between 1980s pop icon Marilyn and Rolf from the Muppets, is an absolute wonder. Playing with almost manic passion, she provides the perfect compliment to Bond’s endearing, glamorous persona and charisma. Her solo spot is a real highlight, and other special, surprise guests, Novice Theory, and fellow-New Yorker, Ryan Styles, are cleverly interspersed with the main attraction, ensuring variety throughout.

Overall though, the performance lacks the atmosphere and fun I’d expect from a show of this nature. Bond often successfully combines cutting-edge humour with poignancy and emotional rawness, but never really seems to connect fully with his audience; rapport, spontaneity and interaction are unfortunately lacking and it often feels as though he is simply going through the motions of the act. As a result, this will really only appeal to a niche audience and already-ardent fans.

This rare revival is the first production of “The Beautiful People” in London since 1956 as the Finborough Theatre celebrates the centenary of the birth of Pulitzer Prize winning American playwright William Saroyan. The commemorative season runs until December this year and also features revivals of two of his other plays.

The intimacy of the Finborough is such that as we enter the tiny auditorium to the sound of 1940s America on the wireless, we feel immediately involved. The setting is one of cosy domesticity; we are sitting in a living room with comfy chairs, a piano and all the traditional family clutter. However, as we soon realise, the family who occupy it are far from conventional.

The historical and political backdrop is the Great Depression, alarmingly apt for the current climate. As most Americans struggle, finding themselves at the midst of social and economic turmoil, questioning democracy, capitalism and all the truths on which they have based their lives, the play’s protagonists represent a more optimistic breed, refusing to conform or play by the rules of the troubled world outside. Detached and eccentric, they surround themselves with a protective bubble designed to preserve the enchantment and innocence of their existence even if it involves engaging in illegal practice.

Working for a living is unheard of, and recent RADA graduate Kyle Soller puts in a superb performance as 15-year-old Owen who, a self-confessed ‘loafer’, has been well-educated to this end. Living in a fantasy world of literate mice and one-word novels pervaded by the disembodied cornet-playing of his absent brother, he is of the bold opinion ‘if nobody worked, nothing would collapse…’ With his fuzz of curly hair and unabashed exuberance he is at the nub of this ideal world, determined for his dreams not to be shattered, smacking of a raw potential which is in danger of never being fulfilled. Paul Greenwood is also outstanding as Jonah Webster, the philosophical father. Charming, charismatic, and permanently inebriated, he is caught in a world of nostalgia and celebration of life’s simplistic beauty. However, even he has a past and he is confronted with reality at the play’s end when his prodigal son (Steve Pretty) returns and his lost love in the shape of Miss Harmony Blueblossom (Elizabeth Counsell) reappears. Neither absence or return is really explained, leaving the audience to wonder.

Director Mel Cook successfully embraces the humour of the piece but deals equally well with more serious moments, for example the nostalgic outbursts of frustrated romantic ‘vice-president’ William Prim (Vincent Shiels), the drunken frustration of ‘good companion’ Dan Hillboy as he mourns his youth and the unhappy admission of daughter Agnes (Rachel Clare) that courtship is really not all it is cracked up to be in the wake of her liaison with the safely-named John.

This is an unfortunately short run with just four performances remaining; try not to miss the chance to experience a remarkably unusual, very special piece of writing complemented by some impeccable performances in an ideal setting.