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As you walk into the temporary theatre, you are transported to a dystopian future. The lights flicker; the drone vibrates to your soul and the actors hang around each corner of the auditorium to create an unsettling atmosphere. Alistair McDowall has created not only a frightening piece but a psychologically disturbing and thrilling one. The humour is macabre, bathetic and gross (a security guards dream to cover Manchester in his ejaculate was a favourite joke of mine) whilst the character development is some of the best I've seen. You see the final scenes for each character at the beginning of the play and it is only as the information trickles down that you realise the shocking end of each character. This sort of theatre is vital in order to get a new, younger audience interested in intelligent theatre with an aesthetic from designer Georgina Lowe that captures the grime of horror films combined the slick and simple nature of an in-the-round space. The drain in the middle provides and effective death scene and an interesting metaphor for the unknown nature of Pomona. Ned Bennet directs a stunning production which bridges scenes with movement and darkness. The ensemble cast are all phenomenal from Guy Rhys' crazy owner of Manchester to Rebecca Humphries' as the emotionally unstable Fay. It addresses the seriously inappropriate relationship society has to porn and to sex workers in what feels like the most professional piece of theatre that I have seen in this fresh and exiting space.
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I'm not a diehard fan of the Kinks. I know of their work but was bitterly disappointed that this won the bulk of the Oliviers over the fantastic Here Lies Love. Having now seen Sunny Afternoon, my view is unchanged. Joe Penhall's book lacks substance a generic story arch which creates an obvious plot and creates a musical that drags rather than soars (when the reference to 1966 emerged, I had my head in my hands). Miriam Buether's design contains a needless catwalk in an otherwise decent set, there are no standout performances in terms of straight acting, and Edward Hall's direction creates what-would-be a middle of the road ITV drama of the Kinks. However, the musical adaptations from Ray Davies and Elliot Ware turn this musical from the ditch and transforms it into something that is almost amazing. The depth and quality of the Kink's music means that it sounds at home on the stage and, from the a cappela transition songs to the full-on deafening concert renditions, you love every note that emerges from the cast's mouths. There's a real understanding for what makes good music here and the intensity and the richness of it is perhaps the greatest on the West End. If this was just an hour set instead of a 2 hour 45 minute musical, perhaps it could have been the experience of a lifetime yet as it stands it becomes yet another flawed jukebox musical that only has the music to rely on.
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This was the first NT Live screening I have attended and, whilst not a replacement for the live experience, it is a reasonable alternative for sold out shows or ones far away. It can occasionally feel annoying with some weird camera angles and amateur camera changes which disrupt a play's power and a feeling of intimacy, which you especially get in the Donmar, is lost on the silver screen. However, the Barbican cinema is utterly gorgeous and keeps a certain intimacy far more than my local multiplex which is only really suitable for the latest rubbish from Adam Sandler or Michael Bay. It helps that the production shown is such an energetic and powerfully bloody production of what many describe as Shakespeare's hardest play to understand. Josie Rourke's Coriolanus combines scenes of gruelling cruelty of Titus Andronicus levels (see picture above) and scenes of pure emotion to create a moving experience. Tom Hiddleston is a headstrong Caius Martius who doesn't become aware of his faults until it is too late to rectify them. However, it isn't a 'lead' performance in the same vain of Benedict Cumberbatch and Nicole Kidman. He is very much one of a collective of actors. Hadley Fraser is a revelation to me as Aufidius as he never seemed to me like a straight actor but, like Julian Ovendan, he makes the transition well and is a menacing figure who commands the stage well. Mark Gatiss is wonderful as Caius Martius' friend Menenius, possessing the charm and wit that Gatiss brings to every role he takes on. Deborah Findlay is a headstrong mother and plays Volumnia with strength and gusto, which makes the later scenes even more distressing, in particular the final shot that is theatrical genius from Josie Rourke. She and designer Lucy Osborne manage to bring Rome to fit inside the Donmar which is impressive and the clever use of Andrzej Goulding's video designs create a production that I am glad I have caught up with. For all its faults, NT Live does provide a useful service and I will be coming back to it for the occasional production in the future.
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Jessica Swale is a brilliant young talent whose impact on the Globe has been a fresh of fresh air. Blue Stockings was fun and beautiful yet challenging, though-provoking and shocking. Now she has written another play for the space about the infamous Nell Gwynn with a send up of theatre in a charming and lavish production. This is such a self-deprecating play that is like a heightened version of Shakespeare in Love with Restoration theatre. You have Dryden, Charles II, Charles Hart and Gwynn very much as caricatures which could be tedious but ends up being belly-achingly funny because of the self aware nature of Swale's writing and Christopher Luscombe's production. The lavish and decadent design from Hugh Durrant evokes the majesty of the theatre and court whilst there are undercurrents of Gwynn's lowly birth through a fantastic yet short performance from Sarah Woodward as Nell's mother who drank from a man's drink. Gugu Mbatha-Raw is comical, feisty and an independent Nell who helps bring a feminist quality to the piece through the comedy. The rest of the cast are also fantastic, notably David Sturzaker's bewildered and fun king and Greg Hastie as the threatened actor who plays the women parts who has a fantastic sequence in showing the many different uses of a fan. This must be the funniest play produced on the Globe stage.
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Commercial theatre companies like the Michael Grandage Company are never going to produce ground-breaking theatre if they have to balance the books whilst selling seats for £10 in the front row of the stalls. This being said, Nicole Kidman's great return to theatre is rather daring, doing an unknown play about the forgotten woman in the discovery of DNA. Having studied the History of Medicine for History GCSE, I had some knowledge of Crick and Watson's discovery and knew of Rosalind Franklin. This play examines Franklin's role closely and talks about how an individuals role is forgotten. Anna Ziegler's play tells Franklin's story with the use of flashbacks from the five other scientists arguing over Franklin's ability and personality which is expertly executed with great lighting design from Neil Austin that make subtle changes between time periods. Christopher Oram creates a set very much in keeping with his other designs for the company with an archaic flavour juxtaposed with the modern flooring. It isn't instantly relevant but there is a hint of this groundbreaking work going on in the these old, crumbling institutions. The whole production revolves around Kidman, who, unlike her character, is always centre stage and at times feels like a vehicle for the great actress yet the production doesn't suffer because of it. She is moving in her lack of emotion in a way that so few actors can do. It is almost overwhelming and heartbreaking after a difficult first half. She is supported by a great supporting cast who make up for their lack of diversity with solid performances. Stephen Campbell Moore is almost sympathetic as Kidman's appallingly sexist colleague whilst relative newcomer Joshua Silver brings charm and a purely likeable character as Franklin's assistant who is the human voice in the play. Crick and Watson are played as jarring and grating by Edward Bennett and Will Attenborough whilst the American fan played by Patrick Kennedy helps to bring out a more emotional wreck performance from Nicole Kidnan. I can't evaluate the Winters Tale metaphor properly as I rather ignorantly don't know the plot yet the feminist message it portrayed was rather moving in a world that knows John Gielgud as one of the masters yet have forgotten his female counterpart Diana Wynard (a name I had to look up). This production is striking and shows that commercial theatre can be interesting, if not totally radical.
It is pointless for the Young Vic to be transformed into a pros space. For such an immersive and vibrant theatre, you feel slightly disconnected with a traditional staging. Despite this, no Ivo Van Hove production can be dull and here, where a man is naked for 40 minutes of this monologue is guaranteed to engage most audience members for 1 hour 20 minutes. One of the things SImon Stephen's monologue is advertised as being about 'unsettling sex'. What needs to be established is that, just because a playwright describes a man's homosexuality, it doesn't mean that it is an analysis or dissection of sexuality. Sex is very secondary here, with this piece being mainly about the family relationship, with the nudity being a metaphor of this man being stripped of the protective clothing and left exposed to the wounds of his previous life. Jan Versweyveld's design is a bare and lifeless room that represents the loss of feeling Willem has experienced towards his family, including his dead brother. It is a complex and layered production which occasionally can become slow however, a convincing performance from the well toned Eelco Smith as the vulnerable Willem is raw and engaging, with a final scene that is rather emotional. The use of music from Mark Eitzel is interesting even if the actual theme isn't of a high enough quality to be a convincing theme to be catchy. Whilst this is no 'A View from the Bridge' it is still a poignant and quality production from the pair from Toneelgroep to show British creative teams how to do it.
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The Royal Court has somewhat diverted from its radical and experimental pathway with the latest Martin McDonagh play, which feels far more of a traditional piece than usual, with a more or less old-fashioned set from Anna Fleischle (apart from a spectacular scene change after a shocking prologue) and a structure that resembles a 'normal' play . This was my first McDonagh play and, despite the above, I was taken aback at how dark this piece is. Humour is found in the most shocking places with a final scene that was horrifying yet hilarious at the same time. Whilst the play lacks emotion at times, it is expertly crafted . The cast solidly reinforces this with David Morrisey (a hearty 'hello to Jason Isaacs' to him) playing Harry the hangman and publican with a sense of hubris and a menacing façade hiding an all too human man whose heart is shown at the twist before the interval. Reece Sheersmith plays a part that suits his style, reminding me of characters in Phsycoville and the excellent Inside No. 9, and is fantastically comic in his earnest and Machiavellian role. Jonny Flynn's Mooney is also fantastically unhinged and unpredictable. My sole criticism would be the casting of an all white cast which doesn't seem too important but I don't particularly want to rant about that again. A West End run seems inevitable for this remarkably macabre and smoky production and it will be deserved from a play that is wonderfully divisive and manipulative.
It would be very tempting for someone, when watching the Globe's Oresteia, to compare Aeschylus' play to the revolutionary Almeida production. Rory Mullarky's adaptation was never going to be as good as Icke's but it certainly is a very different production. This production keeps closer to the original in terms of plot, with a prominent chorus and lots of blood. There are many, many flaws. The views expressed in the final segment need updating and a new approach whereas Mullarky does not resolve some of the more problematic views on gender (when the line 'The mother's just a vessel' is played straight', you start to question this adaptation), Clytemnestra's character isn't developed enough and feels one-dimensional at times, and the dry chorus parts miss out the real 'action' that could feel potentially interesting. Despite this, the rhythms and eloquence of the language suits the majesty and vast space of the Globe. Adele Thomas directs a militaristic and at times surreal production with an off-putting atonal score from Mira Calix and a giant penis being paraded out for no apparent reason in bizarre conclusion to events. Hannah Clark's design mixes Greek tradition with a bloody dystopian future rather well and creates a sense of atmosphere that is similar to Titus Andronicus last year, even if it isn't quite as strong. The cast are solid and convincing in their roles. Katy Stephen's makes the most of her part as Clytemnestra whilst Trevor Fox's Aegisthus is a crazy counterpoint to George Irving's aloof Agamemnon. The Chorus, however, are the most impressive here who are at times divided and are one of the most effective Greek choruses I have seen. I feel sorry for the Globe for the clash of Oresteia's this season however, even without the competition, it is a deeply flawed production that struggles to keep it's audience interested for the long running time.
