SPYSKI! April 7, 2009
Royal Theatre, Northampton, then touring
THE importance of the theatre in bringing truth to a benighted public and exposing uncomfortable realities behind cosy lives is the dramatic thrust driving this politically inspired, socially vital piece of contemporary agitprop.
And if you believe that, you’ve probably also fallen for the hokum publicity trumpeting this production as a sincere attempt to perform The Importance of Being Earnest.
It is, of course, all part of the nonsense surrounding high-velocity farceurs Peepolykus, who use Oscar Wilde’s “trivial comedy for serious people” as a front for an evening of anarchy, Pythonesque flights of fancy and lots of silly accents.
The troupe of five –co-writer John Nicholson, absurd Spaniard Javier Marzan, ultra-versatile Paul Mundell and the multi-faceted Flick Ferdinando and Rhona Croker –attempt to provide a bizarre, ramshackle recreation of the preceding few days leading up to this apparent performance of the Victorian classic.
In their world, they have become enmeshed in a real-life spy drama involving shady Russians, masked assassins and sinister Chinese gangsters, and the actors are now on a mission to expose this world-shattering nightmare to their discerning audience through the power of theatre.
Where the cast’s “reality” ends and sheer lunacy kicks in is a constant question throughout proceedings.
Which is to say that this is a production that rattles along with enormous good humour, some considerable talent and plenty of belly-laughs along the way. Director David Farr lets neither his actors nor his audience rest up for long and the result is a breathless tour de force by a tight team in complete control of their off-the-wall material.
Just don’t go expecting Edith Evans. It’s much funnier than that.
CINDERELLA ON ICE
March 31, 2009
Derngate, Northampton, then touring worldwide
REALITY television has a lot to answer for. Not only does the current vogue for ballroom dancing owe much to the Saturday night schedules, but ice dance has achieved a fascination with the public that far outweighs its significance as an artform.
Or so I thought.
Then ice dance entrepreneur Tony Mercer brought his Imperial Ice Stars to Derngate. He built a square rink on a projected proscenium stage, dressed his huge team of skaters in fabulous one-off costumes and created perhaps the most beautifully expressive interpretation of the Cinderella story to have graced a theatre since Charles Perrault dreamed up his definitive version of the fairytale more than 300 years ago.
Told without words, this worldwide touring production relies heavily on a combination of Mercer’s own thrilling choreography and a sumptuous new score from composers Tim A Duncan and Edward Barnwell. There are lush melodies, vast, sweeping string arrangements and some incredibly evocative moments in the music, and it’s all reflected and intensified by the stunning performances on the ice.
More than 20 hugely talented skaters create memorable image after memorable image as the story unfolds, with a strong central theme of time holding it all together effectively. Both in individual displays of technical excellence and ensemble routines of dazzling style, the Imperial Ice Stars reveal a fluency and flair for their art that constantly catches the breath and amazes the eye.
Alongside set pieces of impressive scale – including a wonderful monochrome art deco ball – there are heartstopping moments of sheer beauty and tenderness. Flying has never looked so graceful or natural as in Cinderella’s final touching duet with her hero.
Olga Sharutenko and Andrei Penkine make a handsome couple, matching their blade skills evenly with sincerity and passion, and Vadim Yarkov as her father leads a supporting cast of highly polished entertainers to deliver a fantasy of breathtaking proportions.
Even a technical hitch requiring instant ice repairs – which allowed the genial Mr Mercer himself to chat informatively to the audience for a few minutes – only served to enhance the experience.
So even if Dancing on Ice did nothing for you, then at least allow the Imperial Ice Stars to show you exactly how powerful, elegant, majestic and moving this artform can be.
SPIDER'S WEB
March 30, 2009
Royal Theatre, Northampton, then touring
IT’S camp, it’s quaint and it’s got all the credentials to pack in audiences of a certain age. The Agatha Christie Theatre Company is here again.
Under the production umbrella of Bill Kenwright, this enterprising group attracts well-known faces from stage and TV to tour the country with material written by the mistress of 20th century crime herself.
This time round, Casualty’s Duffy, Catherine Shipton, joins Butterflies heartthrob Bruce Montague and ill-fated Bill bobby Melanie Gutteridge among a high-speed cast of 11 playing out the country house murder mystery Spider’s Web, written as an original play by Christie and featuring none of her regular cast of curious detective types.
Instead, in archetypal Cluedo fashion, the rascal Oliver Costello is bludgeoned to death with a golf club in the drawing room. But how? And why? And what is the significance of the secret drawer in the desk?
All these questions and more are answered in the usual clever and witty Christie style, and director Joe Harmston keeps the pace rattling along for more than two and a half galloping hours, aided and abetted by a talented cast.
A sparkling Gutteridge holds the whole thing together with machine-gun delivery of crisp lines, while Montague provides delightful gravitas and warmth as her elderly guardian. Denis Lill and Mark Rose make a fine double act of solid coppers, and Shipton puts in a somewhat eccentric performance as the jolly-hockey-sticks gardener Miss Peake.
It’s all good, reliable fare, elegantly designed by Simon Scullion and staged with a respectful tongue firmly in the cheek. And while Christie may seem a little dated to those brought up on Spooks or The Wire, there are plenty of more senior theatre-goers who will rejoice in this old-fashioned escapism.
THE BFG
March 17, 2009
Royal Theatre, Northampton, then touring
IT’S hard to find fault with a show that has clearly benefited from so much time, effort and enthusiasm. Certainly the scale and ambition of this new co-production of Roald Dahl’s children’s story are to be applauded.
Northampton’s Royal and Derngate have worked with independent producers Fiery Light to stage the production, initially in the cosy Royal auditorium and later on a huge national tour scheduled to run until September.
Adapted by veteran children’s specialist David Wood and directed by Phil Clark, the show employs the device of a play within a play, in which guests at young Sophie’s birthday party agree to create a performance of her favourite book after the anticipated entertainer fails to turn up.
This allows for all kinds of horrors, including grotesque giant masks and on-stage child-eating, to be undertaken without scaring the young audience overmuch – this is, after all, only a play, isn’t it?
The energetic cast of ten are all on stage pretty much the whole time, and combine their acting with providing an almost non-stop musical accompaniment using a host of different instruments, ranging from toy drum to bass recorder.
At the heart of the story is Anthony Pedley, turning in a likeable and appealing performance as the BFG himself. As part of Sean Crowley’s ingenious and evocative designs, in giant land he plays opposite puppets, but he becomes a huge on-stage puppet himself when we’re in life-size human territory.
It’s all good clean fun and the fart gags help to ensure plenty of giggles from young audience members. Personally I could have done without the incessant drone of the musical ostinato, which seemed to have no functional purpose and merely served to irritate and detract from the momentum of the piece.
But if the whole doesn’t quite add up to the sum of its parts, there’s plenty of time and opportunity over the coming months to bed this down into a thoroughly serviceable touring commodity.
A SONG AT TWILIGHT
March 3, 2009
Royal Theatre, Northampton, then touring
DIRECTOR Nikolai Foster must be the Midas of the touring circuit. With The Witches of Eastwick and the David Essex musical All the Fun of the Fair currently selling out all over the country, he’s now added a classic Noel Coward play to his roster.
And his deft hand with the material certainly adds a golden touch to the already brilliant casting of Belinda Lang and Peter Egan in the vast central roles.
Lang plays Carlotta Gray, a mediocre retired actress who calls on Egan’s pompous writer Sir Hugo Latymer more than 30 years after they enjoyed an affair. But her motives in tracking him down after all this time, and her reaction to his teutonic wife/protector Hilde have more than a few surprises in store as an evening of acerbic wit and venom plays out.
Staged on a sumptuous period set by designer Matthew Wright, this 1966 piece by the master of manners glories in the virtuosity that Coward deliberately created for himself, but it’s also extraordinarily risky, frisky and emotionally powerful. There’s plenty of the sparkling dialogue you’d expect, but as the evening darkens and the hidden motives become clearer, the meticulously crafted writing deepens into dangerous profundity as an exploration of that most modern of themes, celebrity.
It’s all performed superbly by a well-matched cast of just four. Lang is flighty, feisty and full of the not-quite-successful bravado essential to her complex character, while Egan emerges triumphant as the overblown egotist Sir Hugo, whose descent from reputable icon to broken man is perfectly judged. The final moments are as moving as anything you’ll see on a stage.
There’s terrific support, too, from Kerry Peers as Hilde, who plays her relationship with Hugo at exactly the right pitch, whether she’s domineering or defending him, and from Daniel Bayle, whose delightful turn as a smarmy Austro-Italian waiter adds much more than a mere cipher to the unfolding drama.
It’s painful, provocative and persuasively powerful viewing, and an absolute joy for the student of first-class acting. Not to mention the director…
ELAINE PAIGE
February 26, 2009
Derngate, Northampton, then touring until March 16, 2009
ASKED to list a few Broadway divas, you might come up pretty quickly with names such as Shirley MacLaine, Liza Minnelli or Bette Midler. Do the same for the West End and the list stops with one.
Elaine Paige – or EP, as she modestly likes to be known – is a true musical theatre diva, with all the positive connotations of the word. Amazingly, she has now been at it in the West End for 40 years, and she’s currently touring some of the country’s top venues with a special anniversary concert to mark the occasion.
As Don Black says in the accompanying programme, it’s all too easy to take this diminutive little firecracker for granted: she’s down-to-earth, she’s a pal on the airwaves with her weekly Radio 2 show, and she makes her talent look effortlessly easy.
But take a glance at her track record and you start to realise just how significant EP has been to the development and spectacular success of musical theatre over the past four decades. Hair, Evita, Cats, Chess, Sunset Boulevard, Piaf – not bad for a sub-five-footer whose first job on graduating from drama school was modelling children’s clothes.
This concert tour, in which La Paige is supported by a tight, versatile eight-piece band under the direction of Chris Egan, tracks this extraordinary career in an intelligently constructed, largely chronological programme.
After a couple of warm-up numbers, there’s a beautifully performed version of Broadway Baby, from Sondheim’s Follies, which she cleverly uses as a backdrop for a quick run through her early CV. Then it’s one smash showtune after another, spread across two halves and ranging from I Don’t Know How to Love Him (Jesus Christ Superstar) to I Know Him So Well (Chess). Memory is reserved for the first encore.
Among an evening of many highlights, the most thrilling is the selection from Piaf, in which EP dons a simple wig and some scarlet lipstick to transform into the Little Sparrow. Using part of the Pam Gems play as a scene-setter, Paige also gets to reveal her considerable acting talent, which of course she uses throughout to sell every number, but which really comes into its own with this moving segment.
The voice may occasionally be a little strident for everyone’s taste, and the sound balance may take a little while to get right, but there’s no doubting the supreme talent and consummate professionalism of the West End’s First Lady, and the delighted standing ovation has surely become the inevitable end to an evening in her charming company.
BRIEF ENCOUNTER
February 17, 2009
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until February 28, then touring
KNEEHIGH Theatre Company has made something of a speciality of taking well-known stories and doing a number on them. In the past, they’ve done Shakespeare, Euripides, even Jules Verne, and their version of Noel Coward’s classic wartime film of Brief Encounter has already met with critical and box office success in the West End.
Now the company has recreated the show as a co-production with Northampton’s Royal & Derngate before embarking on a national tour, and the residual warm glow from the London run will undoubtedly count for much. But it makes for tricky reviewing when comparisons with the previous cast and former production spring inevitably to mind.
For one thing, the Royal’s compact stage means the whole grand design has had to be forced into a tight little performance space, with some effects sacrificed and others mangled to fit.
While this is not a problem for first-time viewers, and may not be an issue in some of the tour venues, it does generate something of a sense of a jumble of sparky ideas crammed into a container that’s too small for them.
Adapter and director Emma Rice has thrown every conceivable notion at the show, from filmed sequences and toy trains to actor-musicians and audience participation. While much of this is imaginative and entertaining, some also carries a whiff of fringe frolics and experimental navel-gazing, and the pace of the whole thing needs to sharpen and tighten before it takes to the road.
The performances are, on the whole, likeable and the central pairing of Hannah Yelland and Milo Twomey make a decent effort at the anguished lovers kept apart by the mores of the era. But some of the musical interludes are more intrusive than I remembered from last time round, and there are occasional tuning issues among the vocal harmonies that add to an overall feeling of everything being slightly off-key.
It may be harsh, and possibly clouded by rose-tinted recollections of the original production. It is certainly true that Kneehigh’s Brief Encounter is a highly creative, affectionate and charming piece of theatre.
If it lacks a little of the freshness and edge of its predecessor, maybe that’s no fault of the present company, who work hard to bring this Coward classic to exuberant life.
FLASHDANCE
February 16, 2009
Derngate, Northampton, until February 21, then touring
THINK cheesy love story, think pink legwarmers, think disposable 80s pop. Then throw it all aside and look at what Flashdance really is.
Yes, it’s based on the of-its-time, Giorgio Moroder-scored movie from 1983 about a girl who spends her time welding by day and exotic dancing by night, and how she hankers for a place at ballet school while starting up a romance with the steel mill boss.
Yes, it includes fashion items of questionable taste, even in 1983, although many of the wearers were committing even greater crimes such as breakdancing at the time so maybe legwarmers could be overlooked.
And yes, it’s crammed with hooky, toe-tapping tunes aimed at a certain age. Which I happen to be.
But this Flashdance is a whole lot more than that. This Flashdance is a real musical.
Transformed by the screenplay co-writer Tom Hedley, with a pulsating original score by Robbie Roth, this Flashdance is recreated for the stage as a proper show with a proper theatrical pedigree and a proper production to go with it.
The stage is framed by a steel-wrought set (Paul Farnsworth) and people with seemingly hundreds of young singer-dancers, who thrash energetically through Arlene Phillips routines to play out the wilfully implausible yet utterly gripping tale of Alex Owens and her dream.
Much credit must go to director Kenny Leon for his deft pacing and blocking and to musical director Dave Rose for his stunning eight-piece live band that keeps things driving along fantastically (technical problems notwithstanding).
But the real stars of the night are the principal players, among them Bernie Nolan and former Hear’Say singer Noel Sullivan, who all perform superbly, with impressive acting to complement the stunning vocals throughout the company.
And at the top of the (dance) class is Victoria Hamilton-Barritt, whose brief and understated CV belies an enormous talent that surely marks her out as a name to watch. She’s an assured, confident singer, a highly watchable dancer and an actor of considerable depth and range, and her central performance as the welding wannabe is a tour de force that leaves you breathless.
And it’s a performance at the heart of a show which just demands to be taken seriously, no matter how you remember the source material.
SHAKESPEARE 4 KIDZ: ROMEO AND JULIET/THE TEMPEST
February 3, 2009
Derngate, Northampton, until February 3, then touring
LIKE ignoring a Big Issue seller on a wintry day, there’s something vaguely conscience-wracking about reviewing Shakespeare4Kidz in anything other than glowing terms.
The company philosophy, to make the Bard accessible to children of virtually any age, is faultlessly commendable and has now been taken up with a higher profile by the Royal Shakespeare Company and its national Stand Up For Shakespeare campaign.
Similarly, the strategy of mixing iconic original text with modernised paraphrasing and – in the case of Romeo and Juliet and The Tempest – presenting them as knockabout musicals seems an obvious crowd-pleaser for the younger generation.
As for putting the tour out on the road with up to 14 actors, plus a couple of musicians and a backstage crew, one can only marvel at the sheer ambition of S4K’s enterprise and applaud its relentless determination to reach the previously unreached.
And yet there remains a niggling worry that children – universally recognised as the harshest critics – will come away from both these shows with a slight sense of being underwhelmed.
The cast double up between the two productions, both created by S4K’s Julian Chenery and Matt Gimblett, and work hard to whip through the tales in a couple of hours, apparently so as not to overstretch the attention span of an 11-year-old.
For audiences perhaps experiencing their first theatre beyond a panto, it amounts to a simple, workmanlike retelling of the basic story, with a few sub-Lloyd Webber numbers dropped in to keep the energy from flagging.
But the songs are too lame and the narratives too plot-driven to make these anything more than ‘Tales From Shakespeare’ rather than a taste of the real thing. And if you’re hoping for the magic of the poetry or the majesty of the language, forget it: that’s all as distant and forgotten as Prospero’s island.
It’s all a thoroughly worthwhile exercise undermined by a less than ideal execution.
BLONDE BOMBSHELLS OF 1943
January 26, 2009
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until January 31, then touring
IT’S easy enough to please some critics. In this case, just stick a live eight-piece swing band on stage and he’ll lap it up till the cows come home.
Never mind that Alan Plater’s play seems to try just a little too hard to please, with its witty one-liners and supposedly wise-cracking musicians. Never mind that the technical team seemed to be suffering a bit of a mare with lighting and sound balance. And never mind that the task of finding eight cast members equally adept at playing, singing and acting proved just a touch of a tall order.
Because by the end of a night of nostalgic whimsy and blistering big band music, nobody cared about the minor flaws, enjoying instead the major virtues of this genuinely feelgood show.
Loosely hung around the premise of an all-girl swing band in the war years looking to recruit new members to make up for those ‘lost’ in recent gigs at US army bases, Blonde Bombshells plays heavily on notions of sisterhood, uniting against a common enemy and the indominability of the northerner.
Directed by Mark Babych from his original 2006 production in Bolton, it’s now touring extensively, and deserves healthy houses at the often small venues it will be gracing.
It’s worth the ticket price alone for the sensational second-act show the girls put on, which rattles through a programme of fizzing jazz numbers with sensational arrangements (courtesy of musical director Howard Gray) and impeccable vocal harmonies, all delivered with an energy that blows the audience away just as effectively as the considerable musicianship of the hard-working cast.
Like the Blitz spirit it encapsulates, Blonde Bombshells overcomes all obstacles to win a triumphant victory and make this truly a night to remember.
CINDERELLA
December 19, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until January 11.
AFTER the disappointment of David Essex’s panto debut as Captain Hook last year, you might have expected producers Qdos to play it safe this time around.
And in the sense that this is a rollicking, traditional offering of “the greatest panto of them all” (to quote the publicity), they have. But where they’ve taken a huge chance is putting another first-timer in the substantial and pivotal role of Buttons.
With hindsight it doesn’t actually seem that much of a gamble: their choice, one Jimmy Osmond, is an entertainer of such vast experience and unbounded charm that he could have grunted the part while dressed in a bin bag and still won the audience over.
As it is, he’s a panto natural, revelling in the audience participation, twinkling with self-deprecating gags and loving the rapport he strikes up through a whirlwind medley of his old hits, including – yes, it’s here – Long-Haired Lover from Liverpool.
Around him he’s got some great support, too, in the shape of Peter Piper as an engaging, knockabout Baron Hardup, and two sassy ugly sisters, Brian Godfrey and Darren Southworth.
The whole thing looks great, thanks to an uncredited designer, and is spectacularly stolen by Ian Lucken’s Shetland ponies in a delightful transformation scene, complete with snow.
There are minor gripes – my inevitable whinge about the lack of a live band, the fact that the pace flags worryingly in parts – but there’s no denying the fantastic response of the thoroughly mixed audience and the sheer winning enthusiasm of the cast.
Royal & Derngate has already announced Snow White as next year’s seasonal offering. Here’s hoping the upward trend continues.
THE WIZARD OF OZ
December 5, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until January 11, 2009
JUST occasionally a show comes along that is really hard to review. The Wizard of Oz is one.
It’s ambitious, it’s exciting, it’s full of ideas and it’s a terrific alternative to more traditional festive fare. All of these things are totally in keeping with the current trend at Royal & Derngate under artistic director Laurie Sansom, and are to be thoroughly commended.
And if the whole doesn’t quite live up to the promise of its parts, maybe that’s more to do with the scale of the ambition, rather than any inherent shortcomings.
Sansom is nothing if not epic-minded. Taking on such an iconic classic is a challenge that would deter many a wizened old director, but it’s one that Sansom clearly relishes.
All the things that make the Judy Garland movie so magnificent – from the juxtaposition of black-and-white with glorious rainbow colours, to the genuine love shared between the four travellers (five if you count Toto) – are seized on with enthusiasm and exploited to full advantage.
Natalie Burt is a wonderful stand-in for Judy herself, the ringlets and ruby-lipped smile as evocative as the gingham dress. She sings, moves and acts with confidence and considerable talent, and is completely at ease carrying both the show and the scene-stealing Toto.
Her companions are delightful too – Marc Pickering as a loveable scarecrow, Darren J Fawthrop a suitably uptight tin man and Harry Morrison a cuddly old lion – and their set pieces and interaction are a joy to watch.
Less successful are some of the bigger effects, which promise much but occasionally misfire, and a set, designed by Sara Perks, which looks like it ought to be a triumph but somehow actually contrives to limit the action and the imagination.
But there’s no mistaking the vitality and energy of the cast, and it’s always fantastic to see a band in the Royal’s pit, this time a tight foursome under musical director Ian MacGregor.
All of which helps to make this magical journey highly creditable to the creative team, if not quite scoring full marks for the final achievement.
CABARET
November 24, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 29, then touring.
WHAT most people want to know about this touring production of Cabaret is two things: firstly, can Wayne Sleep carry off the role of the Kit Kat Club’s camp Emcee, and how is Samantha Barks in her professional debut.
What people really need to know is that Rufus Norris’s show, out on the road after a long spell in the West End, is not really about either of its stars.
The revival of Kander and Ebb’s 1966 musical about carefree hedonism in 1930s Berlin retains all its power to entertain, thrill and shock. Against the clearly signposted undertones of the rise of Nazism and the seeds of anti-Semitism, it’s a portrait of a city falling apart under the weight of its own decadence.
All this is superbly laid out in a production, designed by Katrina Lindsay and lit by Jean Kalman, that simultaneously exhilarates and disturbs.
The club is evoked with some flashing lights and a couple of sparkly curtains, leaving the talented ensemble to do most of the work. They do it brilliantly. There is barely a moment when the stage is not teeming with seedy life, choreographed to perfection by Javier De Frutos.
There’s also a moving sub-plot going on between Matt Zimmermann as a Jewish widower and Jenny Logan as the object of his desire, played out lovingly and tenderly by two actors who really know what they’re doing.
And the pulsating score – including classics such as Maybe This Time, The Money Song and the title number itself – is wonderfully recreated by a nine-piece pit band under the baton of Tom de Keyser, full of sass and style.
So what about those two? The truth is they both get by perfectly well. Sleep copes with his Master of Ceremonies solidly enough, although there’s an occasional hint of terror behind the eyes in the big solo numbers.
And Barks, whose experience in the TV talent search I’d Do Anything led to this opportunity courtesy of producer Bill Kenwright, shows she can belt them out with the best of them. Her acting might deepen with another 10 years or so of life experience, but there’s not much she can do about that just now.
Besides, to repeat the point: this spectacular and powerful show is not really about either of them. It’s much bigger than that.
ALEX
November 11, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until November 15, then Colchester and Leicester Square Theatre, London, until December 20.
HE’S been a staple of broadsheet newspapers for more than 20 years. Now the arrogant cartoon corporate banker Alex has been brought to life for the stage.
Only readers of the Daily Telegraph will be connoisseurs of the strip, and in truth its style and humour are something of an acquired taste. But none of that really matters thanks to Robert Bathurst.
This supremely talented comic actor has made selfish boors something of a stock in trade, reaching its zenith in Cold Feet. This, together with his floppy-haired, ageing yuppie look and immaculate suits, fits him perfectly for the role of the self-centred, money-grabbing, misanthropic banker and his 75-minute monologue on… well, himself.
“People think I’m a terrible snob,” he confesses at one point. “But I’m not. I’m really good at it.”
This is typical of the sharp, tightly-constructed script by Alex’s creators, Charles Peattie and Russell Taylor, who have converted the cartoon strip into live action ingeniously and intelligently.
Through clever projection onto a series of white panels and boards, Bathurst interacts with a series of animated characters representing his wife, colleagues and conspirators. The monochrome drawings are carefully timed and manipulated to generate a kind of dialogue with the protagonist, which all adds to the pressure on the actor to hold the whole thing together.
Bathurst does so with panache, geniality and immaculate comic timing. His Alex is irrepressibly horrible to everyone, with self-interest his only guiding principle, and yet you can’t help but like him as he somehow blunders through any crisis that befalls and emerges smelling of roses.
It’s a one-man tour de force and a gifted display of virtuosity.
CAN'T SMILE WITHOUT YOU
November 10, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 15, then touring.
SAY what you like about Barry Manilow, you can’t deny the man can write a tune.
In fact, with all the jibes and cheap taunts, it’s easy to forget this is a pop giant whose chart success has been matched by only a very few in the past four decades.
So the idea of a jukebox musical plundering his back catalogue must have seemed highly attractive to writer Timothy Prager and director/producer Bill Kenwright.
Throw in Chesney Hawkes and a couple of finalists from reality TV star searches, and you’ve got a ready-made hit. Haven’t you?
Well no, actually. What you’ve got is a great live tribute act backed by a top-notch on-stage band and glitzy production, with a string of singalong hits to entertain the fans.
What’s missing – and it’s so glaring it’s hard to believe someone of Kenwright’s experience could allow it to happen – is a story.
In fact, what was also missing on opening night was Chesney and one of his co-stars, Siobhan Dillon, due to an indeterminate “indisposition” – but we’ll let that pass.
The fundamental problem is that the basic story of a boy band whose singer suffers amnesia after being beaten up is so woefully thin that even the magnificent music can only just save it from outright laughability. None of the characters is remotely believable, dialogue is cliché-ridden and weak, and the structure is so ramshackle it’s amazing the whole thing doesn’t collapse in on itself.
Fortunately, there is salvation in the shape of two troupers – understudies Richard Taylor Woods and Katie Ray – who step up defiantly to sing their little hearts out.
Francesca Jackson and Edward Handoll both perform ably in their supporting roles, and the other boys in the band are a cheerful, talented bunch who have guitars, will travel.
But they might just as well have dumped the feeble narrative and gone straight for the foot-tapping, emotion-grabbing power of the songs, delivered with authority and talent under the capable baton of musical director John Maher.
After all, with a show like this, you can’t smile without them.
STOMP October 27, 2008
Derngate, Northampton, until November 1, then touring.
IF all you know about Stomp is that it involves a few people banging dustbin lids together, then think again. That’s a bit like saying the Olympic Games involve a bunch of people running about a bit.
What Stomp actually involves is a cast of incredibly inventive, fit and fantastically talented people creating an astonishing performance of rhythmic virtuosity on everything from matchboxes to giant inflatables – and even the kitchen sink.
For non-drummers, the prospect of endless beats thumped out on an almost infinite variety of surfaces may sound a tad restrictive. But ’tis not so.
The reality is that this show has as much humour, pace, intelligence and vision as any musical performance you’re likely to see, and a whole world of imaginative diversions beside.
The sheer stamina of the five boys and three girls as they career through almost two non-stop hours of dynamism – forget those namby-pamby intervals, guys, this is raw endurance – is matched only by their charm, cheekiness and superlative natural ability, whether they’re suspended upside down from the scenery or stamping out rhythms with a four-foot oil drum strapped to each foot.
There’s a kind of narrative momentum involving each of the performers looking for ways to generate a rhythm using whatever comes to hand, and there are some fabulously choreographed segments in which their competitiveness drives them on to more and more complex manoeuvres. There’s wit in abundance, too, as plastic bags, fag packets and newspapers are roped in to serve as makeshift percussion.
But ultimately this is not so much about storytelling as about sitting back and enjoying the extraordinary gifts of some remarkable musicians at the very top of their game.
LORD OF THE FLIES October 21, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 25, then touring until March 21, 2009.
HOW does a society break down when all normal rules are abandoned? That’s the central question in the 20th century classic Lord of the Flies, which made author William Golding’s name.
Pilot Theatre, with backing from York Theatre Royal, have put the morality tale on stage with an exciting, adventurous touring production.
The story, of course, examines what happens on a deserted island after a plane full of schoolboys crashes and the young survivors descend into tribal anarchy in their fight to stay alive.
Intelligently staged, with all the action revolving round the versatile, cleverly evoked plane wreckage – courtesy of designers Ali Allen and Marise Rose – this adaptation careers relentlessly from boarding-school formality to unbridled savagery in two whistle-stop hours.
Under the guidance of Pilot’s artistic director Marcus Romer, the cast of eight create an alarmingly real representation of a bunch of children left to their own devices.
Davood Ghadami is a gripping central figure as Ralph, the elected chief who desperately wants to do the right thing but is too easily led astray, while Dominic Doughty is movingly vulnerable as Piggy, the object of ridicule and scorn from his fellows.
While the production has its faults– I could have done without the interminable background music, for example – it’s meticulously handled and packs a powerful punch of which Golding would undoubtedly have been proud.
OTHELLO October 10, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 18.
IT’S a problem that certainly dates back to my schooldays and probably many generations before: how do you make Shakespeare accessible to young people?
Endless radical answers have been offered, from updating its setting to modernising its language, with varying degrees of success.
The physical theatre company Frantic Assembly has been invited to stage its latest effort, Othello, at Northampton’s Royal Theatre after creating it with Plymouth’s Theatre Royal. It subsequently ventures to the Nuffield in Southampton and the Lyric, Hammersmith.
And boy, is it radical.
The Moor himself becomes the thuggish leader of a gang of hoodies, who rule a rundown West Yorkshire pub with pool cues and – bizarrely – dance routines. Desdemona is his “bitch”, Iago his bitter and twisted sidekick.
It’s hacked back to a little over 90 minutes, played with no interval but plenty of loud music, and is aimed unashamedly at the teenagers who have to see a live Shakespeare performance as part of their A-level syllabuses. To be fair, it seemed to go down pretty well with them.
But for my money, this adaptation by Frantic Assembly’s joint artistic directors Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett is all mouth and no trousers.
The production sacrifices all subplot, subtlety and depth from the original in a misguided quest for simplicity and being “real” for “the kids”. The trouble with this kind of reductive approach is that, instead of achieving simplicity it is merely simplistic. Instead of reality it plays as the worst kind of reality TV: a sick spectator sport putting an intrusive spotlight on unpleasant characters doing horrible things.
So instead of the majestic tragedy of a great love turned lethal by a mesmerising Machiavelli, this Othello amounts to little more than a low-grade, low-life punch-up between a bunch of no-hope misfits you don’t even begin to care about. It’s Shakespeare for the Hollyoaks generation.
Even the decision to use the original text backfires as the cod-Bradford accents trample all over the verse, reducing some of the English language’s finest utterances to the shrieking of fishwives and the yelling of thugs.
The poor performers do what they can, and there are moments of ingenuity – such as a set (Laura Hopkins) whose walls move and sway to convey drunkenness or danger – but there’s precious little to enthuse the would-be student of the Bard in an evening of gratuitous violence and relentless nastiness.
THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE
September 17, 2008
Royal Theatre, Northampton, until October 4, 2008.
THERE was a certain heaviness of heart over the choice of this Muriel Spark piece as the opener in the Royal’s new autumn season. It has the potential to be dry, hectoring and more than a little slow.
Under the directorship of Laurie Sansom, it is none of those things. Indeed, it is triumphant to the point that it sets down a clear and highly placed benchmark for the rest of the season, which subsequent directors – Sansom himself included – may find it hard to equal.
Neil Irish’s design, with walls, columns and screens covered in chalky school hieroglyphics, beautifully conjures up a vivid atmosphere of the cloistered girls’ school in the 1930s.
A coterie of pupils, drawn from the able talents of Northampton School for Girls, provides an authentic backdrop of youth, from which the four principal young ladies emerge believably and totally convincingly, each playing age ranges from 12 to 30 with complete conviction.
The ‘adult’ cast, too, are well matched, with Hywel Simons and John Killoran both evoking the slightly out-of-kilter feeling of male teachers in a thoroughly female environment, and Sarah Moyle giving us a fine, constrained headmistress.
Ultimately, the show is a star vehicle for the actress playing Jean Brodie, and Anna Francolini does not disappoint. She allows Brodie’s faults and flaws to be visible from the start – almost making the character too hard to imagine as a figure of idolisation – but wins over both the audience and her ‘gells’ with a bravura performance full of subtlety, drama and depth.
The production is crammed with interesting ideas and clever evocations of the fascist subtext that’s constantly lurking, and it’s another powerful addition to the Royal’s recent roster of successes. If it proves a hard act to follow, then Mr Sansom has nobody to blame but himself.