New Writing Part Four: Polar Bears (Donmar 17/4/10) 2 May 2010

Polar Bears is the second new play of the current Donmar season, the first being the phenomenally successful Red by John Logan which recently transferred to Broadway. I'm not sure where to start with this one. Thinking about it there really isn't much to say, which is sort of how I felt about Polar Bears. Again, drawn by the promise of another production directed by Jamie Lloyd I expected to at least be entertained, and I was, somewhat, but overall it was a slight evening.

I've never read The Curious Incident of the Dog In the Night, the bestselling novel by Mark Haddon who has written this play. All I know it was a huge hit and as a result didn't really think twice about his first play premiering at The Donmar as all the productions are of such a high quality. I figured that there must have been something about Mark Haddon's writing that cried out 'playwright', why else would the Donmar take such a risk as they aren't known for championing new work? I have a suspicion but let's move on to the actual production.

For quite a while I didn't know what the play was about. I was intrigued, that's for sure. With a title like Polar Bears it could have gone into any direction really, but I finally pinned it down to a story about a woman with bi-polar disorder. Nifty. I like how he pulls that together. Then, from what I could tell the structure of the play was unconventional and seemed to be splitting audiences. I personally enjoy unconventional plotting and structure so I was up for the challenge.

The story itself is pretty straightforward - a bi-polar woman meets and falls in love with a philosopher, much to the dislike of the woman's mother and brother. I say, dislike because they aren't so much against the union as suspicious that the woman's disorder could prove too much for the man. So, how do we make this story more interesting? You start at the end. I'm all for that as it forms a basis to really explore the various characters needs and desires. Unfortunately, that didn't come to pass. We did get the ending first (I am now giving you plenty of notice by typing a very long sentence to alert you that a major spoiler is on it's way. Even though it's the first thing that happens in the play I still think that many would prefer to not know. - *SPOILER* the man confesses to the brother that he has killed the woman in what could be thought of as a crime of passion by pushing her down the basement stairs - *END OF SPOILER*).

What makes this story more complicated structurally is that it doesn't then go back to the beginning and trace the events that lead up to the ending, it replays events out of sequence. Normally I would have found this intriguing but in this case it comes off as a device for the sake of having a device. With such a non sequential structure I expect there to be a reason for presenting scenes out of order such as illuminating issues and actions in a different way. To know the outcome of actions prior to the inciting events should give those initial events a different spin. Not so with Polar Bears. I didn't really see any reason for the structure other than possibly making the story more interesting.

Actually, it's sad to say, and I don't like having to say it, but, one of the main problems was the central performance of the woman Kay, by Jodhi May (Blackbird - West End, The Talking Cure - National Theatre, Platanov - Almeida). Everything hinges on her actions. There wasn't any real extreme in her actions and her performance was just that, a performance, to the point that I could see why her man did what he did, and not for the obvious reason. There was probably a thought that by not playing th extremes we, like the the characters in the play, would wonder if the character really had a disorder. It didn't work.

The mother, Margaret played by Celia Imrie (Rivals - Southwark Playhouse, Acorn Antiques - West End, Film - Bridget Jones; Star Wars, TV - Cranford) is very clear in her warnings to the husband John played by Richard Coyle (After Miss Julie, Proof - both Donmar, The Lover and The Collection - West End, The York Realist - West End and TV's Coupling) that Kay's emotional swings are very difficult to handle and is continually challenging him in his insistence that it will be fine. The brother, Sandy played by Paul Hilton (The Wild Duck - Donmar, Riflemind - Trafalgar Studios, On the Third Day - West End, Mourning Becomes Electra - National Theatre) is also sceptical about John's ability to commit to what could be such a volatile relationship. These points are driven home through every scene that includes John with either the mother or the brother.

Theoretically this pressure that John is under is what the audience would be looking out for after knowing how it all ends. None of warnings actually carry any weight because we never experience Kay's extreme mood swings nor do we ever feel any real connection with either side of her personality. Everyone else does their best , with Richard Coyle giving the greatest performance, but without seeing and feeling what all the fuss is about it ends up being empty storytelling.

To be fair, even is the central performance was better I don't think it all would have added up to much. I looked into Mark Haddon's experience (his programme biography is very slight) and it seems the majority of his writings are for young people with only two being for an adult market and this is his first play. Polar Bears feels like a first play and there are a few parts - namely two extended monologues one from Kay and the other from John - that feel very literary, as if someone was reading from a book. The dialogue is handled well but nothing is very illuminating and I felt much of it became very repetitive. There was an odd choice of having Jesus Christ having a conversation with Kay and then having the same actor, still looking like Jesus, also play Kay's ex-boyfriend. This was an obvious deliberate choice which probably has more meaning but I stopped looking, partly because I find using Jesus as an obvious device that I no longer find interesting.

It was all directed very well as to be expected from Jamie Lloyd, and Soutra Gilmour's split level minimalist set really hits the mark but it's a shame that there aren't more interesting ideas and characters to make it a more worth while experience. Which lead me to think, why this play? What was the process for choosing this play to be part of a Donmar season?

The Donmar have produced new plays in the past - John Logan's Red, Frost/Nixon by Peter Morgan and The Cut by Mark Ravenhill immediately come to mind. Up until now the pattern seemed to be producing new plays by selected established playwrights. Polar Bears has changed this. From what I can tell, Mark Haddon has never written a play before so what was this choice to produce his first play at the Donmar all about?

I realise likes and dislikes are a very subjective thing but for some reason my dislike of Polar Bears didn't stop me from wondering about the decision to produce the first play by a mostly children's book writer about an adult with bi-polar disorder on the Donmar stage. I have nothing against children's books writers, it's, I'm sure, a very specific skill but how that skill translates into the ability to write for the stage, especially a world renowned stage, is a topic that interests me.

I'm pretty sure that everyone is aware that show business is indeed that - a business. Of course, the creative aspects of the 'show' part exists, and it would be safe to say that most everyone involved in the 'biz' started out with mostly creativity on the mind. But to survive, to be able to feed that creativity the 'biz' becomes a major part of the game. And it is a game. It's a business, like most businesses, where you have to figure out a way to keep working, and that comes down to marketability, how much money you can make for someone.

I've never, in my mind, equated the theatre world with the world of show business. That has always been the realm of film and television. Why would I? Those involved in producing theatre don't make near the amount of money of those other two industries but there are the odd exceptions, Cats and Phantom of the Opera have made their creators very wealthy but that took years. Those involved in theatre are involved mainly for the love of theatre. You have to be in love because you can make loads more money in other fields, doing the same thing.

Because of this love I want to think that the art comes first, with a keen eye on the finances coming second. Finances are a major part of West End productions, it has to be but it still has that sense of love and passion lurking in the background (there are a few exceptions which I won't go into). Whereas the arts council funded enterprises have less to lose so the quality (the love) tends to be higher. Also with these funded organisations there are usually a team of workers, leading, guiding, suggesting, crafting and creating work of a standard that they feel is worthy to put before an audience. I'll go out on a limb here and say that their ultimate goal is not West End but sold out houses - an indicator not just of financial gain (sometimes) but of audience engagement.

So we have a culture that now bemoans the inability to reach theatre audiences with new writing, but that seems to be shifting a little. I think we are seeing that interesting writing can still draw the audiences and not just on the back of celebrity names. We are slowly building back a stable of creatives that are associated mainly with theatre and their names stand for quality - Mark Rylance, Rupert Goold and Michale Grandage have helped to create new theatre royalty, artists whose association with theatre alone can sell tickets. This is true for venues as well with the The Royal Court and the Donmar really gaining momentum. So, with all this power why would you take a chance on a new play by a new playwright who has only written, from what I can tell, only one play? And not a great one at that?

I think there's something going on behind the scenes that we aren't aware of. Is the money monster rearing it's ugly head in the off west end world? I could be completely wrong but someone seems to have struck a deal somewhere or personal interest has cancelled out common sense. I'm not saying that a first time playwright / successful novelist can't have their first produced but I question the stage on which this happened. Surely someone would have questioned quite a few things about the piece and maybe they did but if so, someone trumped them. Who and why? I think of all the great playwrights who are struggling to be heard and then I see this play that, though not bad and really not good either, get produced on a major stage. I don't want to believe that the deciding factor was the hope that Mark Haddon's name would help sell tickets. That would be a big letdown.

It's all very confusing - I know that the Donmar has an association with American Producer Arielle Tepper Madover (to be inspired - listen to her interview on the Downstage Centre podcast a few years back - she is the founder of the Summer Play Festival in New York. I wish someone would model something similar in London - Podcast is here ) and there are annual residencies at the Donmar from American playwrights associated with the Festival so why not produce one of their plays instead?

I know I shouldn't complain, it has absolutely nothing to do with me but I just hate to see real theatre talent get pushed to the sidelines. Normally I would chalk it up to 'someone took a chance and it didn't work out' but with Polar Bears something smells a bit fishy.

New Writing Part One: Eigengrau (Bush Theatre 13/3/10) 2 April 2010

This past month has been heavily populated by new things for me. A new play at the Bush Theatre, two evenings of new writing and with the first of the two, the first time I had been to Theatre503. Add to that my finding out that I will be starting a new job in May (Marketing for Arcola Theatre - which now marks a self imposed embargo on Arcola blogs) and it all adds up to a pretty momentous month. My original intention was to discuss each of the three new theatre works individually but in my mind they always seemed to come together as three parts of one conversation so that's how I have decided to approach it this time around.

Back at the end of January, beginning of February I attended Improbable Theatre's Devoted & Disgruntled weekend where, using Open Space Technology, participants set the agenda. If you had a topic you wanted to discuss then you made it, titled it and scheduled it into one of the predetermined time slots. It was your responsibility to act as moderator of your 'session' and take notes as a record of the discussion.

One session I attended has a direct correlation to these new works and the thoughts I've had surrounding them. There was a woman who has been presenting her work at scratch performances for years and felt she was has fallen into a scratch circle. Can you scratch too much? I had never been a part of a scratch evening as a participant or viewer so I thought it would be interesting to hear if it was something I should pursue for my own work and if so maybe I would find out some of the pitfalls to avoid. The one thing that stood out for me was the question - when is your play or work finished and ready for a real production? This one went back and forth quite a few times until one of the participants - an Improbable regular - finally said - when you say it's ready.

That seems an obvious answer but it wasn't something that many had considered - partly because we are all used to having the 'powers that be' tell us when something is finished or possibly we as artists sometimes don't have enough faith in what we produce. Either way it was something to chew on.

Keeping all that in mind, I approached this month of new writing with the thought that all of the artists involved (as well as the powers that be) feel that, unless otherwise noted, the work on show is the finished deal.

Here is Part One.




Production 1: Eigengrau by Penelope Skinner at The Bush Theatre, Directed by Polly Findlay

Following on the heels of the stonking The Whisky Taster , to my tastes, Eigengrau had alot to live up to and on many levels if fell way short. I tend to have a thing about booking the final preview performance before a press night, the reasons being that for larger productions I can take advantage of a preview ticket price and ensure I'm getting the press night quality of performance. Also, I like to see things earlier on so not to be swayed or influenced by word of mouth and reviews. Unfortunately in this day and age, the press performances tend to be a bit fluid so I found myself surrounded by reviewers, the only ones I recognised were Mark Shenton and Lyn Gardner. Oh well.

For those who don't know, Eigengrau tells the story of two men and two women whose lives are intertwined. There's Cassie (Alison O'Donnell) a radical feminist and her flaky flatmate she found through Gumtree, Rose (Sinead Matthews - Our Class and The Women of Troy at the National, The Wild Duck at the Donmar and The Birthday Party in the West End), and on the male side there's Rose's city boy almost one night stand Mark (Geoffrey Streatfeild - Pains of Youth, The History Boys and The Bacchai - all National Theatre, Journey's End in the West End and Henry VI 1, 2, 3, Richard III, Henry IV 1, 2 and Henry V - all RSC) and his slacker flatmate Tim Muffin (John Cummins - A Stab in the Dark at the Kings Head, Edward II at BAC and The Beaver Coat at the Finborough).

Once all the characters and situations have been established, you can see how they will be interacting a mile off. City boy Mark has had a brief fling with Rose and runs into her flatmate Cassie the next morning in the flat. Cassie challenges Mark with her feminist views. Rose who has become obsessed with Mark, goes to his flat and meets Mark's flatmate Tim Muffin who in urn takes a shining to her. Mark starts fancying Cassie and it all gets a bit brit-comesque.

Going one step further each of the characters has a 'thing'. Cassie, as mentioned, is a feminist and is actively involved in the movement. Tim Muffin's grandmother has recently died and he keeps her ashes in a teddy bear shaped urn. Cassie is a flake and early on seems to be the eternal optimist but is revealed to be a bit psychotic in her single visioned pursuit of Mark, against all odds and signs to the contrary. And then there's Mark, the city boy. That's it. He's a city boy with all the trappings that one would expect - a bit laddish, a bit middle class with a dark side of liking to dominate sexually. No surprises there.

There's not much else to say about the actual storyline other than things happen and you can't really figure out why because they're never explored or brought up again. After a night of domination sex Cassie never speaks of feminism again. We learn that Rose has a history of not paying bills but is that a reason for her excessive behaviour? She refuses to see reason in regards to her pursuit of Mark, justifying every action in her favour, she debases herself by giving Mark the longest onstage blowjob ever (complete with the spitting out of sperm) to help secure their relationship, then goes onstage at a karaoke club and sings a complete song off key which concludes with self mutilation, only to bounce back at the end to her almost original self. And there's Tim Muffin, the only character with two names, (most likely for the humour factor) who we find out at the end has been devastated by the death of his grandmother. How that gives reason for his pursuit of Rose and his general slackerishness is beyond me.

Basically nothing seemed to add up. Yes, there were some wonderful comic touches and lines which the audience ate up but when you got to the end you just weren't sure what you just saw and why you saw it. At the end, two things came to mind - either the characters were poorly written or the director (Polly Findlay - Thyestes at Arcola, Romeo and Juliet at BAC) or the actors didn't assist enough in the creation of the characters.

Kind of sidestepping for a moment - I was working at a theatre in Los Angels during their pre Broadway run of August Wilson's Seven Guitars. At that point it was still a work in progress and I was fortunate enough to be able to sit in on a discussion between the actors a group of young people for one of the theatre's outreach programmes. They told the eager listeners about all the cuts that had been made throughout the production.

The actors performed the previous version of the script for quite a while but it became evident that the play was running too long and many of the scenes were dragging down the pace. As a result, there were some major cuts - mostly involving character backstory. Some of the kids wondered if the cuts made the actors work more difficult. The reply was that it made their work easier because although they didn't perform those scenes anymore the information that they imparted became part of their performances, they informed how the characters acted and reacted within the scenes. It was something I hadn't considered before and has since stayed with me. (Unfortunately to the extent that I have issue with seeing replacement casts for long running productions). Having that much information is a luxury and that the majority of actors (and directors) have to get that sort of information on their own. It may be difficult at times to figure out but I think it's a necessity to gaining well fleshed out characters.

With Eigengrau I would say the lack of fully fleshed out characters are a result of the writer, the actors and/or the director not realising that something was missing. The writer introduced many elements that were either dropped without explanation or not explored beyond one or two lines. There is the possibility that the actors had worked on their characters stories but unfortunately this work never appeared in their performances (with the exception of Sinead Matthews who gave a wonderfully heartfelt performance which in fact revealed the flaws of the text). If they had worked on their back stories then I would say it was the director who failed to realise that the physics of cause and effect were not in play here.

Physically, the space itself was just a small traverse with audience on both sides. With the exception of a fast food stand where Tim Muffin briefly works, four chairs were used in various configurations to determine settings with a shelf on one wall for the teddy bear urn to indicate when they were in Mark's flat. The scene changes were a little clumsy and there were times when I had to think a little too much about where the characters were supposed to be. It mostly wasn't as obvious as it should have been.

Afterwards, I thought about Eigengrau, not for the good reasons that stimulating theatre can do but wondering what determines a finished play? Does it read better than it plays? Who could have read it and not seen all the missing pieces? Have I missed something? Am I crazy? I don't know. The audience I saw it with laughed up a storm, I didn't find it funny. A little humorous but too obvious for my tastes. Most of the reviews were glowing but I did read one that had the same questions about not following through with storylines. It is almost a deja vu situation. It reminds me a little about a certain play I blogged twice that was pipped to the post of a major award. It's almost like the title of the play exclaims - eigengrau: the colour seen by the eye in perfect darkness. Like the character of Rose it may seem the world only wants to see the good. I can excuse alot but I love theatre too much to wear rose tinted spectacles.

Stay tuned for the continuation of the new writing discussion with London Playwrights Collective and Box of Tricks' Word:Play 3 at Theatre503.

The Sanctuary Lamp (Arcola Theatre 12/3/10) 21 March 2010

Here is a surprising gem. It's not what I expected but that's not a bad thing. Actually, I'm not sure what I expected but sometimes if you just dive in you can be surprised.

Surprises always abound when entering Arcola Theatre's Studio 1, you never know how it will be configured. For b*spoke theatre company' production of The Sanctuary Lamp you immediately feel as if you are in a church. The five or six rows of seats flank one long side while the other is half of a church interior, dimly lit - about six pews, a confessional, pulpit and the titular sanctuary lamp - with a smoky haze effect diffusing the light (design by Monica Frawley). There is also some wonderful sound design that hits you from the get go - a reverb, echo that gives the impression of being in a large empty place that continues throughout the production (sound design by Ivan Birthistle and Vincent Doherty). Subtle yet effective.

What happens then reminded me of getting involved in a good book. Harry (Robert O'Mahoney) an ex circus strongman meets the churches Monsignor (Bosco Hogan) and as he has nowhere to go is hired as a sort of a church custodian / security guard and one of his duties is keeping the sanctuary lamp lit by changing the candle.

Now, I didn't know what a sanctuary lamp was, it was discussed a bit in the play, so I looked it up, and to save you the bother:

'The General Instruction of the Roman Missal in the Catholic Church, for instance, states (in 316): "In accordance with traditional custom, near the tabernacle a special lamp, fueled by oil or wax, should be kept alight to indicate and honour the presence of Christ." The sanctuary lamp is placed before the tabernacle or aumbry in Roman Catholic, Old Catholic, and Anglican churches as a sign that the Blessed Sacrament is reserved or stored.' - Wikipedia

As the confessional is now used a storage cupboard, Harry takes to using the sanctuary lamp to confess his problems with his wife and his once close friend Francisco as part of a small circus that performs for private parties. This is a longish segment which initially worried me as it seemed the pace and story were going to be very slow going. I wasn't entirely sure where all the talk was going and I had difficulty seeing when the actual story was going to emerge. However, like in the recent Serenading Louie at the Donmar, the longish start pays off. All the information given in that beginning makes the rest of the story all the more powerful because you get a sense of who the character is and what his station in life has become.

Interesting side note - both Serenading Louie and The Sanctuary Lamp first premiered around the same time, the early 70's, and although from two different countries, have that same aesthetic, the longish opening segment whose purpose is not to necessarily dump you in into the story but to set the tone, give the audience a sense of the characters lives. This seems to definitely have been of an era as I can't remember any recent plays giving that sort of breathing space, everything seems to drop you right in the middle of the action. It made me realise how the theatre has pretty much gone the same way as film.

Have a look at films pre Jaws, they were well structured stories with great characterisations which were not so much concerned with the immediate hook but in allowing time to build the scenario which makes subsequent events resonate even more. Post Jaws, box office became more important and so did quick hooks and thrills. To an extent I feel that plays went this same route. I guess it also comes down to talent - it's difficult to write expository dialogue that doesn't give you the feeling of reading a quick summary or programme notes before the actual story starts.

But I digress. A second character is introduced properly, we've seen glimpses of young girl. Once found by Harry, we hear the story of Maudie (Kate Brennan) who has also sought sanctuary in the church. After many tentative steps Harry gains Maudie's trust and she reveals her secrets, the reasons why she has gravitated to the church. The final piece in the puzzle, a man (Declan Conlon) looking for Harry becomes the third in the triad of people seeking refuge.

On the surface it seems rather straightforward and predictable. At least that's what I was thinking when in fact this is furthest from the truth. Based on what was revealed early on, I assumed many connections and events that never came to pass. It's a play that never goes where you expect and doesn't set itself up to lead the viewer down the wrong path only to throw a spanner in the works. What evolves is very heartfelt and genuine, dealing with the complexities of forgiveness, truth, faith and spirituality versus religion and church. It's never heavy handed and never absolutely damning of one or praising of the other. It never preaches, it engages.

Like Arcola's last production Heldenplatz, there seems to be an agenda, something that the author has to say for or against something. In Heldenplatz it was Austria, in The Sanctuary Lamp the church and maybe more generally - organised religion. From what I have read this play caused quite a stir when it was first produced. Seeing how explosive and anti-church ideology can be today, I can imagine it could ruffle some collars. There is however, a big difference between Heldenplatz and The Sanctuary Lamp. Whereas Heldenplatz seemed to be created to condemn and work solely on an intellectual level, The Sanctuary Lamp's ideology is born organically from the characters while engaging the mind and the heart.

Considering the author Tom Murphy has also directed this production, I find the plays ability to 'argue' it's points in a balanced way surprising and is a testament to why it works. More often than not, there is a loss of objectivity when a playwright directs their own work. That's definitely not the case here. Just the opposite. Like reading a good book, or seeing an engaging 70's film, I got lost in The Sanctuary Lamp and it kept me thinking for a good few days after.

Nation (National Theatre 23/2/10) 28 February 2010

What took so long? I hear you ask. I had a £10 Travelex ticket for Nation back in November, but had to give it up when I took ill and wasn't able to make it. Well, I didn't really give it up but was able to bank it as a credit with the National Theatre. After this time I became more aware of the buzz surrounding the show - not really good. To be honest I don't recall anything extremely negative or damning but more - perplexing. As a result, I didn't rebook.

As the production continued into the new year I noticed more and more promotion with ticket offer popping up and I immediately thought 'that's not a good sign'. A week or two ago they made an offer that I couldn't resist - £5 for the best available seat. When I checked online I saw I could get a primo stalls seat in the Olivier for £5 I took the chance and booked. I figured that if I didn't like the production I wouldn't feel I was cheated.

Nation is directed and co-designed by Melly Still. I first came across Melly in the late 90's when she - along with her then partner, the then Artistic Director of the Young Vic, Tim Supple, were renowned for putting on the best productions at Christmas. These productions were revolutionary at the time partly because they provided a Christmas entertainment that wasn't panto and appealed to both children and adults. Grimm Tales and More Grimm Tales set the standard by which most Young Vic Christmas productions from that point modeled themselves on to some extent. These productions were based on stories or fairy tales that had somewhere along the way been Disney-fied. What they did so well was go back to the original story which usually included elements of blood and guts along with mild ribald humour and never shied away from presenting those elements to audiences of all ages. What they found was the young children were not only not scared by the violence but really enjoyed it.

Melly and Tim created true theatrical experiences - there was usually a strong storytelling narrative, with the actors narrating bits directly to the audience as well as scenes being acting out, as well as live music to accompany the action. Additionally they used economic theatrical devices normally seen in physical theatre productions that engaged the imagination such as using a large blue cloth, stretched out and held by the actors to replicate an ocean or large body of water. These were not just productions but theatre experiences and events held within the confines of the intimate Young Vic theatre space. If someone had their hand chopped off, you could see it wasn't real although there would be loads of blood but you were thrilled just the same. When the actors narrated the story or offered a brief aside to the audience, you felt it was intended for you to hear. The intimate space allowed for this wonderful audience actor interaction.

As I mentioned this model for children / family shows continued past the Tim and Melly productions - most notably in Dominic Cooke's Arabian Nights which has recently been revived - and has come around again full circle as Melly Still has gone 'solo'. Melly had a hit with Coram Boy at the National a few years back (it didn't do as well in it's Broadway transfer) and although I didn't see it I got the impression it had many of the same elements found in those early productions. And then came Nation.

Unlike those earlyYoung Vic productions Nation has been adapted by someone not known for adaptations or Melly's particular style of direction - Mark Ravenhill - who to date is best known for writing the controversial Royal Court hit Shopping and Fucking. That's not to say that a playwright should stick to what they're best known for, but you have to admit, he's a surprise choice. You could also say that when the National produced His Dark Materials as their Christmas production they were taking a very risky gamble by adapting a complicated and controversial book for the stage but as we all know now, that gamble paid off. I thought that Nation would be in the same vein, but alas this gamble doesn't pay off and there are some tangible reasons for this.

The National's Olivier Theatre is known for being a bit of a beast of a space. There's no proscenium which opens it up and brings in the audience to an extent but it's quite cavernous and its productions need to be big in order to fill it. Nation is big. There's a central 'island' which is also half a globe that rotates and three large framed screens behind it which are used for projections as well as providing alternate views of events through puppet work and actors on wires. Although I can see why they are used, you have to reach the rear seats, but it means the production becomes more literal.

During one scene at the start the now obligatory blue cloth comes out with a miniature boat in the centre to replicate a storm at sea. Behind it and behind the screens we see actors on wires plunging into the sea. For me it's a matter of having your cake and eating it too. On one level we have theatrical invention and on the other there's an almost cinematic experience. When this happens on stage I find it difficult to suspend disbelief and the pure theatrical elements just appear false.

On that note, there're dual elements in the structure of the play itself. I've never read the Terry Pratchett source novel but from what I understand it touches on many themes and is complex in thought. It's near impossible to ever translate all of a novel's elements to a stage production so what Mark Ravenhill did, which seems right to me, was just use the basic storyline - two young people from two very different cultures, both having lost their foundations - the girl, British Daphne, through a shipwreck which leaves her stranded on a remote Island with a boy, Mau, who is the only survivor from his nation - learn to communicate, grow up and forge a new nation. There are other elements thrown into the mix - the islanders religion and the ideologies of the Daphne's conservative middle class family who are searching for her. Unfortunately, I feel the Mr Ravenhill has tried too much to stay faithful to the book.

There's a sense that he went through and picked out important moments that would satisfy both sides - fans of the novel and the theatrical story. Ultimately what we get is a strong set up with all the characters intentions revealed and then a series of scenes and events that sometimes seem unrelated to the whole. I think there may have also been a fear of being too explicit in his dialogue, of having the characters state what is happening or narrate the story. Unfortunately in this sort of play, that's an important element, as there is a fairy tale 'moral' conclusion. The character arc is either missing or is not clear. We get a general sense of how some of the scenes and adventures contribute to the characters development, but when they tell us in the end (with some really bad dialogue I might add - many around me couldn't stop giggling) you have to wonder why they didn't let us know earlier or at least give us some sign posts. Under normal circumstances this would be a no go area but this sort of production demands it.

The old Melly Still /Tim Supple structure is there but the direct narration element is gone as was an attempt to incorporate it into the dialogue, which didn't work. There is one character that spurts rude comments and slightly comic asides - the parrot which is played by a human. It's somewhat funny but seems more necessary to break up the seriousness of the play than make any considerable contibution to the story.

Lastly, there is live music by Adrian Sutton (Coram Boy and War Horse) which is pretty unmemorable and sometimes turns into a little sing song by the natives of the island. Irritatingly so. It doesn't move the story forward or shed any light on the Islanders lives than we already knew. I think it could have been stronger without the songs.

Basically, it just didn't work. It looked great and the actors seemed to be enjoying themselves which is aways infectious, but it couldn't figure out what Nation was supposed to be - storytelling or straight ahead narrative. It fell somewhere in the middle and neither was strong enough to connect with the audience. I'm glad I saw it this late in the run (it's only on for a month more I think) because I know I'm not seeing a work in progress. Although I wasn't bored or clock watching (2 hours and 45 minutes!) it just wasn't engaging or clear enough for me to say I enjoyed it.

Serenading Louie (Donmar 20/2/10) 25 February 2010

Considering all that I've blogged about recently I have begun wondering if the main point for enjoying a play is memory - memory of people you've known or come across, memory of places you've been and times gone by. What I never realise is how much memory I've got stored up in my grey matter, memories of little things that come racing back when I come across a similar situation or person. Sometimes being reminded of incidents and people can be such a powerful thing that one tends to ignore everything else surrounding it.

Memory can also be a dangerous thing for artists when without realising it you have injected your art with bits and pieces of someone else's art - many times called 'being influenced'. There were many times during Serenading Louie when, for me, memories came flooding back and I was prepared to ignore everything else in favour of being thankful for a good time.

Serenading Louie takes place in the early, early 1970's Chicago, where we meet two couples, the men friends since college are now married and living out the lives they were expected to. Unfortunately things aren't going so well and it's not only their marriages that are falling apart.

On the surface this would seem to be a typical 'look at how our lives have run away with us' play but if you look closer it's about much more.

What makes this play a bit of a curio is that it's, like John Guare's Six Degrees of Separation, a play written in the era in which it takes place. As a result it never comments but just exists . To an extent, if you are not familiar with those times socially, some detail might escape you but that's a minor note as having that knowledge only enriches the experience not define it. Here's one example that come to mind. The two couples go to the cinema to see the film Deep Throat - which for those who aren't familiar, was the first main stream hardcore porn film, a huge sensation in its time that almost single handedly heralded a new sort of sexual revolution. This in itself is almost inconsequential as it doesn't have a direct impact on the story but it does colour it a bit. It's great having that knowledge but not having it doesn't change the dynamics of the characters lives as their issues are not solely based on what was happening around them.

Generally, there isn't a great deal that happens in this play, it's a slight story. The enjoyment comes form the fine tuned performances and the attention to period detail. Designer Peter McKintosh (Be Near Me, Chalk Garden - both Donmar, The 39 Steps - all productions, Prick Up Your Ears at the Comedy) has, I think, taken a leaf out of the Mad Men notebook and created a picture perfect replication of an American middle class home in the early 1970's. It's not the sort of design that one would immediately conjur in their mind when asked what a 1970's home looked like (if you were around then) as those memories tend to get jumbled with what you remember and what you think you remember. What he has done, at least for me, is bring back the actual memory.

Mr Mackintosh and director Simon Curtis (Otherwise Engaged - Criterion, Road and A Lie of the Mind - Royal Court) have worked some magic on the Donmar stage. There are two very specific moments in the staging tapped into memories long since forgotten. First, one of the female characters opens her bags and takes out her house keys. She gets a little impatient and begins jingling them. Sounds inconsequential, right? Not to me. One thing that I had forgotten is that American keys have a different sound to UK keys. You would never find chubb keys on US key rings so all the keys are smaller and lighter, which when jingled together make a noise, slightly higher in pitch. I hadn't heard that in years. Second - after the two couples have finished their post cinema outing at one of their houses one couple readies to leave. Now this will be difficult to explain but the way it's written is that the two couples are at the front door and have split into two groups - male and female. Each group carries on its own discussion which in itself is just idle banter, which happens simultaneously. While they are conversing coats are being put on along with all the accoutrements that go along with the party exit. Again, it was really strange seeing and hearing that exchange, it reminded me of the many times my parents entertained and as the evening started to come to an end everyone gathered at the front door with various last minute conversations. Memories.

What is also very interesting is wondering how many plays or playwrights author Lanford Wilson (Burn This, Talley's Folly, 5th of July, The Hot L Baltimore) has influenced. There are times when the characters directly address the audience - asides and brief inner thoughts. It works really well and although it breaks the fourth wall which is probably the intention, it's never jarring. This same sort of device is used in Six Degrees of Separation written almost two decades later. I wonder if John Guare saw an early production and that device somehow seeped into his memory banks? I also thought about who Lanford WIlson was influenced by. My first thought was Tennessee Williams. The opening scene between Alex (Jason Butler Harner in his UK theatre debut, numerous plays in New York and the films Changeling, The Taking of Pelham 1,2,3, TV's John Adams ) and his wife Gabrielle (Charlotte Emmerson - Therese Raquin, The Coast of Utopia and Baby Doll - all National Theatre) reminded me of the opening of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Alex returns home from work and is besieged by Gabrielle, talking almost non stop trying her best to reach out to the indifferent Alex, in effect digging for for the truth. It's almost a monologue and very reminiscent of the opening of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Maggie trying to reach her husband Brick, also digging for the truth. Is this a chicken or egg situation? One could argue that John Guare was influenced by Lanford Wilson who was influenced by Tennessee Williams. I wonder if it was an obvious choice or if the memories of the influential plays were so deep that unknown to the authors, they were unleashed in their own writing. Who can really say? I also wonder how the fashion world tends to all have the same idea season after season - stripes, long, short - is it cosmic of just stealing?

This is a great production to see if you enjoy great acting. Not the sort that screams acting but the sort that fully realises an actual human being. The two standouts for me were Jason Butler Harner and Geraldine Somerville (Power and Blue Remembered Hills at the National Theatre; Lily Potter in all the Harry Potter films) as Mary, the wife in the second couple. Both command the stage with a naturalness and ease as well as bringing the characters off the page with a simple gesture. Wonderful.

Also in the cast - Jason O'Mara (The Homecoming - National Theatre, Jew of Malta - Almeida Theatre; The John Simm role in the American version of Life on Mars) as Carl - Mary's husband. He plays the bruised sensitive male very well although I wasn't entirely convinced by the turn of events at the end as he portrayed them. Charlotte Emmerson came into her own with her final big moment. Like with Jason O'Mara I wasn't entirely convinced of her opening scene. Where it seems that the audience should at once find her a little irritating but also pity her, I found the scene primarily irritating. This still worked because it sets up the couple's lives and makes her husband's description of her a few scenes later all the more interesting.

I'm not sure if this is a play that everyone will enjoy. I loved it for it's subtlety and the way it built. It seems to be going nowhere in the beginning but as it progresses more layers are uncovered. It's a slow burner that provided great conversation after and allot to ponder in the days following.But, saying that, I also don't think the production would stand up as well without the team involved in this one.

My favourite from the play that says allot about memory - 'I didn't love him then, but I loved him then now'. Ponder that.

Heldenplatz (Arcola Theatre 12/2/10) 14 February 2010

I've always wondered what goes on in the mind of a translator. Not so much the translators that immediately translate conversations from person to person but those employed to translate a literary piece of work from one language to another. Do they intend to keep the English version as close to the original as possible or do they translate the essence for the original into a work that's accessible to English speaking audiences? Either way, I find translations problematic. I can usually tell it something was originally in a different language, as there is usually a stilted quality about it, an English as a second language quality about it. There's nothing wrong with that but there are always elements that are either lost in translation or remain obscure to the likes of me unless I've done some proper research in advance.

All of these issues lie at the heart of Heldenplatz. It's very evident during the first long, almost monologue (clocking in at close to an hour). As the play takes place in Austria and is addressing social and political issues within the country, it makes numerous references to specific locations and buildings. Without any knowledge of these places and buildings I could only guess at what the characters were on about. Add to that very mannered and stilted dialogue and you have what I found to be an impenetrable play.

Before I go any further I have to confess that I didn't buy a programme (which was also a play text) so I have absolutely no idea who played who or what the characters names were. For the record here are the actors:

Hannah Boyde, Paul Brightwell, Daniel Curshoen, Andrew Hawkins, Caroline Horton, Petra Markham, Barbara Marten, Jane Maud, Clive Mendus and Holly Strickland.

Also, I think it fair to give you the description (from the leaflet):

'Heldenplatz by Thomas Bernhard
Translated by Meredith Oakes and Andrea Tierney
Directed by Annie Castledine and Annabel Arden

Austria, 1988. For the Schuster family - intellectual, Jewish, Viennese to the core - the country remains as uninhabitable as it was when they fled in 1938. Forty years on from World War ll, irrational hatred, neurosis and decadence still reign.

Bernhard explore the shared isolation of people who have lost their bearings along with the most of their illusions. Condemned in his homeland when it was first released, the play delves deep into Austria's historic alliance, exposing the right-wing sensibilities of some of the country's most prominent citizens,'

Without going into too much depth, the play is divided into three sections. In the first are we encounter two female maids in the household of the recently deceased boss - the Professor. The elder speaks to the other about the Professor and her life with him. He seemed to have hated almost everything and was always torn between a home in what I think is the name of a place and not a household in Vienna (and funny enough even after having it repeated at least, no exaggeration, a hundred times during the course of the evening I still can't remember the name - the word 'Ibuprofen' always comes to mind) and Oxford in London. That wasn't a metaphor by the way, but how the name translated phonetically in my mind.

Also repeated was the fervidly polishing of the Professors many, many pairs of shoes by the younger maid and the ironing of a shirt by the older maid while discussing how the Professor liked his shirts to be ironed. The shirt would get folded, continuing with how the Professor liked his shirts to be folded and then the maid would shake the shirt out, iron it again, then fold it again... you get the picture. What else were they talking about? That there were still Nazis in Vienna after all this time and that it's difficult to know who to trust.

Scene two - three more people, two women and an older man, who are also throwing Viennese names around so I had to guess that the two women were mother and daughter as they were always referring to father and grandfather. I finally figured out they were sisters and the old man with then was their Uncle, the brother of the deceased. They basically talked about the same things covered in the first part.

Interval.

Scene three - the meal after the funeral. Everyone from the first act plus some additions were in attendance. The maids set the table and their presence upsets the equilibrium a little (evidently, the elder female maid was left one of the Professor's houses in his will and the fact he had a will was a surprise to many). The discussion? Pretty much the same as in the first half - with the mention of 'ibuprofen' so many times, a friend and myself had to stifle giggles. The Professor's wife comes in, making a mini scene, she hears the sounds of the Nazis in Heldenplatz square (which their home overlooks) then abruptly dies in her soup.

End of play.

Imagine sitting in a pub in a Country you know little about with a few people you don't really know but who know each other very well. These people have a few issues they feel passionate about, mainly dealing with relatives and their fellow Countrymen. Over the course of the evening they have quite a few pints, loosening them up a bit, and the passionate topics of conversation get more intense. After the fifth pint and the umpteenth time around the subjects at hand your initial interest in trying to decode their conversation begins to wane as you discover they are just covering the same ground, over and over. That's how I felt during the performance. It was interesting to watch in the beginning, but then after hearing the same thing five, six, seven times I lost interest and began thinking of ways to make it shorter.

As you can probably tell, I didn't get very much out of it. I get the feeling this play is very much in a German tradition of playwriting of some sort. For me it had echos of Chekhov and I think there were echos of other literary traditions that I just didn't get.

Finally, the translation. Going back to what I said in the beginning, it seemed that the translators were very faithful to the original German. Was that wise? For me no. Or possibly yes. It depends on the audience. I guess there would have been only two choices in the matter - translate it as faithfully as possible or throw in a few things that would make it more understandable to the layman. Either way I feel to fully enjoying Heldenplatz would have required a good knowledge of Vienna, it's history, some German, classic literature and drama on a semi academic or 'really a big fan' level, or extensive notes in a programme. I don't really think that much studying should be done to enjoy a play unless the evening is being promoted as a form of theatre new to these shores. If the latter were true you would know what you were letting yourself in for and would take tit upon yourself to get clued up before attending. Otherwise, you could be, like me a little lost in translation.

The Whisky Taster (Bush Theatre 10/2/10) 12 February 2010

We've struck gold!

Let's be honest, there aren't many of us theatregoers who will take many chances on untried, untested theatre i.e. hasn't played regionally or at Edinburgh (translation - doesn't come with reviews). Other than knowing someone involved there has to be something about the play that catches the imagination and usually it's just the marketing description. Never dismiss the power of the description. Here is the one for The Whisky Tasters:

'Barney and Nicola are advertising wonder kids. They win accounts with wit, charm and a secret weapon - Barney's ability to feel, smell and taste colours, and to translate these sensations into words.

Lately Barney had been finding things way too colourful and wished his full throttle London life was more black and white, but Nicola is hell bent on winning accounts at all costs.

When the two hire an old Scottish Whisky Taster to help them with a new campaign, his strange wisdom slows the Londoners to a stop, just as the deadline looms.'

Now, to me that sounded really interesting and pair that with the urge to take a chance I booked. Luckily enough I didn't revisit the description so when I was finally settled in my seat at the Bush I was completely open to what was going to happen on stage, completely unencumbered by preconceived thoughts. This was a good thing because ultimately what happened was allot bigger than any description could ever capture on a leaflet.

What else did I get? Characters that are at once bigger than life and entirely recognisable with uniformly knockout performances, a script that mines the curiosities of personal and work relationships, and direction that understands the writers style and transfers that understanding to all the plays many detailed elements to create what I feel was one of the most wholly enjoyable evenings I've spent in the theatre.

Let's break it down. The performances. Amazing. I was only familiar with two of the actors - Samuel Barnett (Olivier and Tony nominated as Posner in The History Boys - and on film) and Simon Merrells (recently seen as the lead in On the Waterfront at the Theatre Royal Haymarket). Samuel plays Barney, the one with the special talent and Simon is his boss. I saw The History Boys twice at the National and remember Samuel Barnett very well. I thought he was really good but wasn't entirely sure why he was singled out so often as being exceptional. Close up at the Bush it's evident why. His character is not the funniest of the lot and is not supposed to be, but he delivers a finely drawn performance as a young man not willing to let go. We feel every twist and turn his character goes through. Also, he has the ungodly difficult task of letting us, the audience, see and feel what it's like to feel smell and taste colours. You try it.

Simon Merrells delivers an hilarious performance as his overly expressive boss. There are hints of Ricky Gervais in The Office but they are only hints.

There are three other actors - Chris Larkin, John Stahl and Kate O'Flynn. Chris Larkin (The Lady from Debuque,TR Haymarket; His Dark Materials, National Theatre; Midsummer Night's Dream / Much Ado About Nothing, Open Air Regents Park) as Christopher the client, turns in a very subtly funny performance that will seem very familiar to anyone who has had to pitch to a client, John Stahl (Othello, The Globe; The Crucible, RSC; The Weir, Royal Court) is the Whisky Taster and is suitably enthusiastic, obsessed and mysterious and finally, what could be my discovery of the year Kate O'Flynn (A Miracle, Royal Court; House of Special Purpose, Chichester) as Nicola. She turns in a stonkingly amazing performance. From the get go, she inhabits her Croydon native character with such gusto and humour that you immediately warm to her. She allows us to see all sides to her character - gutsy, funny, strong, determined and driven as well as the tender, insecure and vulnerable side. It's true tour de force. In one scene she leaves in a huff then reenters and while standing still, a single real tear falls from her eye, it was magical. She spoke volumes without saying a word or indicating her emotions. It was very powerful.

Of course non of these performances would have been possible without a wonderful script by James Graham (Eden's Empire, Finborough Theatre; Tory Boyz, Soho Theatre; suddenlossofdignity.com, The Bush). He has a very keen ear for dialogue and infuses his characters conversations with current cultural references. I like the way his mind works. Throughout his story we get the pleasure of hearing a debate on what was better to watch as a youth - CBBS or CiTV, finding out how whiskey is made and hearing more about the London tube map than I knew before. It may sound dry but these various elements are intricately sewn into the whole, it really is a tapestry of characters and ideas and it never gets out of control. All the elements have a very specific reason for being there and as a result the characters are as rich as the whisky of the title.

Extra special mention to director James Grieve (Artefact, The Bush, National Tour, Off Broadway; Comfort, Old Vic New Voices 24 Hour Plays; The List, Arcola; and Associate Director of the Bush and recently appointed Artistic Director for Paines Plough).

This is always a difficult one for me. I connected with his style. There are certain directors whose 'style' I immediately connect with and I am not sure if I can get the 'why' across. For me it's about how the actors interact with each other, how they deliver the dialogue and get across the plays ideas and elements. Anything too showy or 'unauthentic' and I tend to shy away. This play has alot of quickfire dialogue, sometimes heavy with ideas and thoughts. Characters cut each other off and often react and comment without saying a word. Of course much of this comes from the actors but it's the director that keeps it all on track and ensures that what happens on stage remains true to the story and style of the playwright. James Grieve does all the above, with panache, and I will be seeing more of his work.

My last mention will be the designer Lucy Osbourne who has actually found a way to immerse the audience in the felling and colours that Barney experiences.

I really can't say enough good things about The Whisky Taster. It was quite full the night I saw it and I couldn't help but think that it should have been packed out. From what I could tell the audience, pretty much loved it and many dashed out during the interval and after the performance to buy a play text. I think that's a great testiment to the writing.

If you are in London or can be here before the the end of February I strongly urge you to get a ticket. You don't want to be that person who will have to regret, out loud, to all those who were fortunate enough to see The Whisky Taster ' I really wish I saw that'. You have until the 27th of February. I took the chance and struck gold.

Midsummer: a play with songs (Soho Theatre 4/2/10) 6 February 2010

At last! Against all odds here's a play (with songs) that defies expectation. A play about 'relationships' between a man and a woman, with occassional songs accompanied only by acoustic guitar that actually works. It works because it never falls into the trap of being cute, overly sentimental or most importantly predictable.

It was more than likely that I would have passed this one up as I do with with many Edinburgh Festival transfers (of which this is one - later than usual). The idea of a two person play about relationships with the addition of music conjured in my mind sweet 'knowing' interchanges between the two characters punctuated with gentle folksy guitar strumming. Not really my thing but, I was strongly urged by a friend at work to go and as is the case, again, I'm really glad I did.

It's a difficult production to explain because if you just state the basics it sounds like a million things you've seen before - a man and a woman meet in a bar and embark on what may or may not be a lasting relationship as they try to come to terms with reaching their mid thirties. But, and that's a big but, it's done in such a clever and fresh way that the end result stands heads and shoulders above anything else in the same genre.

Sure, it treads familiar territory but it's the flourishes of reality that give it punch and bite. It's not afraid to go places many wouldn't dare to even recall except to their closest friends. Here's an example: there's a great scene early on when the pair agree to get extremely drunk and have sex (so they wouldn't remeber the encounter the next morning). While having sex (and it is sex, not lovemaking) the audience is privy to their inner thoughts which inhibit their performance. The man - Bob (Matthew Pidgeon - The Wonderful World of Dissocia, National Theatre; The Lying Kind, Royal Court and the film The Winslow Boy) keeps having to remind himself to concentrate on the act and not let his mind wander while the woman - Helena (Cora Bissett - Electra, Gate Theatre London; Caledonian Road, Almeida Theatre) is also having a difficult time concentrating and realises she isn't being pleasured so figures she will have to fake her moans of pleasure. The next day as she arrives hungover at her sisters wedding to be a bridesmaid, she throws up on the steps to the cathedral and ends up drawing so much negative attention she has to flee. This is not your typical love story, in fact, I wouldn't really call it a love story at all as it is more concerned with looking at emotional attraction and what brings people together.

Throughout the rest of the 100 minute play we are taken on a car swindle deal, a big night out which includes getting tied up with ropes by a Chinese bondage expert (the outcome is meant to be psychological not sexual) and a foot chase as Bob goes on the lam, running from some heavies he's done a deal with. All this is punctuated by the ocsssional song, some touching in their simplicity and others very funny - like the 'if my hangover was a city - it would be Belgium'. For me, the music works because the songwriter (Gordon McIntyre - a member of the band ballboy) has as his musical references bands like The Jesus And Marychain (the character Bob is looking to busk around Europe singing Jesus and Marychain songs) so they never get too cloying and sweet, staying away from faux folk. Also, Cora and Matthew are great singers, not vocal 'powerhouses' a la Cion Dionne and the like (thank god), but real, emotional singers with good voices.

I was a little worried during the first five minutes or so because the characters directly address the audience and that's not my thing. I always figure that if you can't incorporate that information then why bother. However, I soon realised that I was getting information that added and enhanced the story. It's another example of how clever Midsummer is in using convention and making it work. Big thumbs up to writer and director David Greig (responsible for the amazing adaptation of Albert Camus' Caligula at the Donmar starring Michael Sheen in 2003) who has written a wonderful piece that doesn't draw any easy conclusions and keeps all the various elements and stories flowing so effortlessly with his direction. Funny enough I hadn't bought a programme so I was in the dark or a while about who was involved and had assumed that Midsummer was written and directed by real life couple Cora Bissett and Matthew Pidgeon based on their own experiences. Imagine my suprise when I discovered that not only did they not write or direct it but are not a real life couple. I think that's testiment enough.

Side note: Unfortunately, as I write this, it's the final performance of Midsummer at Soho Theatre. If I get any information about additional performances at Soho or elsewhere then I'll post it here.

Jerusalem (again) (Apollo Theatre 1/2/10) 2 February 2010

I went back for more although I wasn't impressed the first time. An opportunity arose to see it again without anything to lose (but time). So, I went for it and to be honest, there were some extenuating circumstances that clouded my first viewing and I wanted to be sure I gave it a fair shot, especially after it has been praised to the skies as the best play of the previous decade.

Here were the extenuating circumstances. I was dead centre in the first row (finances) and as many of you may already be aware, the Jerusalem set has really brought the outdoors in - real grass, real trees. Add to that a huge caravan and a large cast and I wondered if I was too close, I could smell the fertiliser and watch tiny flying insects just above the grass. Second, I had a bit of a hunger issue on that day which manifested itself as tummy rumbles. Nothing to be embarrassed about - unless you are dead centre in the front row and the actors are performing a quiet scene three feet away (act 3). So, to try and alleviate the systems I was squirming a a bit and trying to apply, covert pressure on the areas where I thought the rumblings were coming from. Needless to say, my concentration waned. Lastly I distinctly remember getting double vision, the kind you get when you are over tired and are trying at all costs to keep your eyes open. So, I figured by eating before the performance, ensuring I wasn't tired, and not sitting in the front row, I could eliminate all those obstacles which lead me to not enjoy it the first time. What did I learn from all that preparation? Those external obstacles were not the problem.

While watching it this time, I realised the Jerusalem is like watching an extended version of a TV sketch show. I think there's an argument there. Most TV sketch shows (think Little Britain and to a greater extent The Catherine Tate Show) have recurring characters. What sketch shows don't do is expand those characters into fully realised people, because, that wouldn't be funny. That's not what we watch them for. We want the quick, clever comedy that comes from obvious character traits - an immediate level of recognition.

In Jerusalem, just like a really good sketch show, the razor sharp dialogue comes fast and furious, one funny line after another - one put down after another - one funny situation after another - one too many after another. It's relentless and repetitive (like sketch shows when the character has outstayed their welcome). What we learn from a few exchanges is repeated in various forms, numurous times. Indeed, it's a laugh fest - for a while - but then each successive exchange gets more and more obvious. It seems like I'm digressing but I'm just trying to plant an image in your head so if I say that playwright Jez Butterworth is a great sketch show writer you will understand where I'm coming from.

It must have been hard work for the actors, each trying to make their character an individual but, no matter how much work they put into it, they will remain stock characters, enitrely interchangeable. At the Royal Court, their version of a programme is the playtext which I have from my first visit, so I looked into the writers descriptions of his characters. Usually, there's a little snippet of information that will give a clue as to who these people are. Here is Mr Butterworth's about four of the main characters:

1. Ginger played by Mackenzie Crook

Enter Ginger from behind the trailer singing....he puts his hand to his ear and air-scratches on an air-turntable.

2. Lee played by Tom Brooke

A young man, Lee, suddenly sits up from the couch, gasping.

3.Davey played by Danny Kirrane

Enter Davey, in big shades with an accordion.

4. Pea and Tanya played by Jessica Barden and Charlotte Mills

From beneath the trailer crawl two sixteen year old girls, Pea and Tanya.

That's pretty much all we get. All other traits were obviously created by the actors, the costume designers and the director. The most realised character is Johnny played by Mark Rylance and here's his description -

Wiry. Weathered; drinkers mug, Bare chest. Helmet. Goggles Loudhailer. Despite a slight limp he moves with the balance of a dancer, or animal.

It's now easy to see why, in addition to being a great actor, Mark Rylance rises head and shoulders above everyone else.

The entire cast from the original run have trasferred with the production and the same problems I had with four of them at the Royal Court I have at the Apollo. They aren't very good. And if you are having to carve your character out of a void you had better be real good. Maybe the lack of experience in those actors was a smokescreen to hide the lack of character?

I have three final gripes before I leave you in peace. First - these characters, although familiar and funny in their own way, come across as hilarious. These are drug taking, foul mouthed, unachievers who think of nothing to partake in a few lines of coke with teenagers. The audience continually whoops it up on the laughter front. Are they laughing with them or at them? Is it really funny or rather sad? I find it a misstep. Second - as has been proved in other Jez Butterworth productions I've seen - notably Parlour Song at the Almeida - he doesn't write women well. Actually he doesn't write them at all. They just exist and say some lines. They are just foils as is the case of one major female figure in Jerusalem, she makes a speech daming Johny then does what he does. Owing that we know nothing about her other than her realtionship to the main character this really makes no sense. Thirdly, it's really long, way too long for what it is. I kept thinking during the performance (not a good sign) of what they could have cut. Finally, I found that each of the three act was less interesting than the one before it. When we finally arrived at what seemd like the end I was begging for it to be over but, no. There were about three false endings. It was like Michael Meyers in Halloween, just when you though he was dead... but Halloween was at least interesting.

I can understand admiring parts of this - the set, the mostly clever dialogue, Mark Rylance - even Mackenzie Crook, Tom Brooke and Danny Kirrane are very good, but how can you just ignore the really bad parts - lack of characterisation, excessive repetitive length and some really clunky performances? Could it be a sheep mentality? Who knows, but like my friend said - 'You couldn't pay me to sit through that again'.

Rope (Almeida 23/12/09) 28 December 2009

I did what you probably shouldn't do when seeing a play that has a film version - I watched the film first. Well, sort of. I started watching it then fell asleep. That's not to say that the film was boring but it didn't prove to be as exciting as I expected it to be. The film version of Rope of course is directed by Alfred Hitchcock and adapted for the screen from Patrick Hamilton's play by actor Hume Cronyn which in turn is inspired by true events. Luckily, by falling asleep I didn't see the ending which is important in this story as the audience already knows who, what, when, where and basically why, from the first scene. What is not known is - will they get away with it?

For the first time in Almeida history, the seating arrangement is in the round. I was seated in the first row of the circle, an excellent seat. What they have done is pull the stage forward into what is usually the first few rows. The back wall of the previous stage area is now lined with two rows of seats on tow levels, matching the existing circle and stalls. It's all seamless. If you hadn't been to the Almeida before you would never realy guess that it was a new configuration.

As the play opens, tow of the main characters Wyndham Brandon and Charles Granillo have just strangled a university friend to death with a rope and are stuffing him in chest in the front sitting room. The first ten or so minutes of Rope are played in almost complete darkness as the two characters discuss what has just happened and what will happen. What will happen is a party. They have invited friends of the deceased as well as his father who they assume will come with the aunt. There is a perverse thrill about having a party in such close vicinity of the dead body, and Wyndham (Blake Ritson - Arcadia for the National Theatre and the film RocknRolla) is relishing it. His partner in crime Granillo (Alex Waldmann - Laertes in Jude Law's West End Hamlet) is much less confident, in fact he is in full on panic mode.

When they finally feel safe to turn on lights the play proper begins. Instead of serving the food and drinks in the dining room they have opted to take their plan further by serving from the chest with the body in the front room. Their servant (this is late 20's, early 30's upper class London) Sabot arrives first to set the table. It's really a thankless part, with the character's only purpose being to help arouse suspicion and then exit. As played by Philip Arditti (England People Very Nice - National Theatre, House of Saddam for HBO) I think he is supposed to be North African or French. This is the one severly underwritten part in the play.

After Sabot, the others arrive one by one: Another university friend Kenneth Raglan (Henry Lloyd-Hughes - almost unrecogniseable from his stint as the bully on The Inbetweeners), another friend, socialite Leila Arden (a very well played and very funny Phoebe Waller-Bridge - 2nd May 1997 at the Bush, co-Artistic Director of DryWrite), followed by the father of the corpse Sir Johnstone Kentley (Michael Elwyn - numerous productions at the Royal Exchange Manchester and Open Air Theatre Regents Park as well as Tv's The Tudors) along with his sister Mrs Debenham who struggles to speak more than three words at a time (Emma Dewhurst - Medea, Jane Eyre both West End, The Invention of Love and Making History - both National Theatre). The general interactions between these guests are entertaining to listen to and watch. As directed by Roger Michell (Female of the Species - West End; Landscape with Weapon, Blue/Orange - both National Theatre; films include - The Mother, Enduring Love and Notting Hill) the characters move effortlessly around the circular set allowing each to emerge and establish themselves without isolating them from the central event.

The balance changes with the entrance of Rupert Cadell, another friend - an ex-serviceman from the first world war, who walks with a cane as a result of a war wound. As played by Bertie Carvel (The Pride at the Royal Court; Parade at the Donmar; The Man of Mode, Galileo and Coram Boy - all National Theatre) Rupert is a a visual and aural curiosity. HIs speech is clipped, with odd exagerations on various phrases and words, he walks with a limp and has a very camp, fey air about him. However, it's the hair - the hair is a marvel all it's own. Where did that come from? All I can say it's an early 1929 quif and it works. All in all, Bertie Carvell gives one of the finest performances of the year. He has an uncanny ability to make Rupert extremely funny as well as endearing although he can be bitchy and arrogant. No matter how funny he is, Carvell never allows the character to turn into farce, knowing when to pull back and allow the other characters to have their turn, he never overpowers the scenes. What is also very admirable is that no matter what volume he pitches the performance, Carvel always follows through with the many ticks of the character.

This can also be said of the entire production. There are many times where it becomes extremely funny, to the point where I had to wonder if it was turning out to be a great comedy and the thriler aspects were going to be secondary. This never happened, the production knew when to reign it in - the comedy came naturally from the characterisations so it was only funny when it should be. And the ending. I really loved the lead up to the final events. There are some really great and touching speeches, and some interesting theories to chew on without ever becoming pretentious and overbearing.

Compare and contrast time. This really has no bearing on my enjoyment of the production but I think these are interesting points to bring up. I'll start with the Hitchcock film as that was my point of entry.
Hitchcocks Rope takes place in the late 1950s in Manhattan. The number of characters are about the same but many have different relationships with each other and the servant has a much bigger part and is female. Keeping this in mind, imagine my surprise when in the opening moments of the play I am hearing RP.

Later that evening, when I returned home, I decided to look further into the Rope story. Lets start with the real story. The real killing took place in Chicago in 1924 by Leopold and Loeb. I 'm not sure why the play then took place in the UK other than the playwright may have felt more comfortable with all things English and was writing for that audience (his other famous plays include Gaslight - recently revived at the Old Vic, and Hangover Square). The other interesting fact is the sexuality of the two main characters.

Leopold and Loeb were gay. It was never called that back in the day of their trial, but they admitted to sexual relations. I find this information of interest because it explains a few things about the film. Of course, the 'love that dare not speak its name' was a no go area in the late 1950s, especially if James Stewart is one of your stars, but if you watch the film closely one does wonder why the two killers are standing so close together. It sounds odd but have a watch and you'll see what I mean. I think Hitchcock was inferring intimacy without making it an issue. Again, this was an issue that you wouldn't find in a 1929 play, so the closest you get in the play text (much like the film) is that the two characters are travelling out of town together for the winter. Flash forward to the West End revival of Rope in the 90's which famously opened with full frontal male nudity, intimating that the killing was part of a honey trapvmaking no bones about the characters sexuality.

In this current revival, it sticks to the text as is. I've never read it so I can't be sure how camp Rupert was written, but as with the film, the sexuality is inferred but off handed comments and physicality but never overtly stated. Ultimately, does their sexuality make a difference to the play? No, not one bit. It's just an interesting sidenote to an interesting and engrossing play which you should see (if you can).

Cock - Final Performance (Royal Court 19/12/09)

With some forethought I bought a scond ticket for the final performance of Cock and I'm glad I did. Early on, I could tell from the cast and creative team that it would be a memorable production, especially with Andrew Scott playing one of the roles. So seeing it again be worth my time as well as a pre Christmas treat.

First off it was interesting to see changes from a front of house perspective. Obviously, as the show was popular (sold out before the run was even half finished) and word got around about the unusual seating, more people were queuing before the doors opened. This caused a little confusion for the attendees of the Downstairs performance of The Priory as the end of the queue extended into their balcony level's bar.

Early queues that snake down stairs and around corners do give an added level of excitement and anticipation to the evening, much like what it was for films, back in the day. Interesting enough, Cock director James MacDonald seemed very taken aback by the queue when he arrived for this final performance, something I thought odd. He must have been aware that it had been sold out. Maybe it was the fact that the audiences cared enough to queue early that surprised him.

There must have been some issues with getting people into the theatre and seated on time as tickets were now being torn while we were queuing. We were let in close to start time and could only go in one direction (which I discovered when I decided to go the oposite way and was stopped). Also, gone was smell of freshly cut wood. Once in the arena we were greeted, if you could call it that, by a female usher who seemed to be somewhere around nineteen years old, firmly barking orders as people. I was very intent on finding a seat which would give me a diferent perspective and when I located it I took aim.

In order not to disturb those already seated I stepped over the fixed cushions on the first level to take my solitary place to the far side next to the railing on the second level. At this point , the 'lovely' usher barked "Do not step on the cushions. Please use the centre stairs" which seemed an odd thing to request after the fact. I reassured her that I did not step on a cushion, which she replied "then use the centre stairs" which again, was strange seeng that I was already seated. I was surprised at the intensity of 'crowd control'. Crowd being a maximum of around 80 people which is taking into consideration that not everyone showed - there were empty places. I mentioned in my first post about Cock about how lovely the Royal Court staff were. I take it back.

I mention all this because I found it interesting that this little play, in the tiny Royal Court Theatre Upstairs seemed to almost have the feeling of a stadium gig for its final performance. That's saying alot about how audiences have reacted to Cock but also put pressure on the performers to deliver. I was afraid that as they had settled into their roles and as it was a final performance that the subtle aspects would be driven out and replaced by overt comedy but my fears were unfounded.

What was most magical about this performance to me was that all performances had grown in relation to each other. What I found awkward (for the wrong reasons) in the earlier performance - Paul Jesson's 'F' - now works well. His perfomance was no longer a charicature of an 'older generation' but a full fledged individual. This made his sections believeable and it didn't come across as being presented with 'theme' wrapped up in a bow and neatly presented to the audeince. It was integrated.

Of the other three actors, the one whose performance changed the most was Ben Whishaw's. Thinking about it, he may have had the most difficult role. Although he is the centre of the action and is in all scenes, his character is often at the receiving end, with the other characters driving the action forward. This can be difficult because you are always reacting to what is being thrown at you and it could leave you in the dust. Ben's performance found more of the humour and a little more strength than he had in the earlier performance.

All this aside, it was still Katherine Parkinson and Andrew Scott who shined - both finding every conceivable character nuance and flinging it into the arena without ever losing sight of the story. Both, as usual, were excellent but Andrew Scott was in top form. His line readings and takes on situations were beyond brilliant. I was sitting directly opposite the director and was watching his his reactions. Judging by what made him sit up and take notice, smile and laugh this late in the day having seen it umpteen times, I would say that Andrew Scott won. I hate bang on about this (well, I just hope you don't get too bored) but he really can push the boat out - not too far as to get lost over the horizon. He was on top form but never upstaged his fellow performers or lose sight of the characters intentions.

I'm glad a went a second time. The whole experience was alot edgier. Like a fine wine, it's aged well with time. I wondered if this was their peak. Would a longer run have turned it into a huge laugh fest in an attempt to keep it fresh and the actors from getting bored? Like with all theatre, we will never know. It's had it's moment in time and any additional productions would have their own slant, no matter who's in it or directed it. I'm glad I saw this one.