Theatre Review: Amadeus

Sometimes all it takes is the poster for a show for me to be able to think without a shadow of a doubt 'yes, that is for me'.

As wrong as it may be to judge a book by its cover, my theatrical gut is rarely wrong (let's not talk about The Entertainer). As soon as I saw the poster for the NT's new production of Amadeus I knew I was going to love it. And I was 100% correct to think that.

There were two things that immediately jumped out of me from the poster (come-programme cover) that inspired my certainty. The first, and the most obvious, was the play itself. As everyone and their dog knows at this point, Peter Shaffer's work of beauty tells the story of the intense rivalry of the darling of Viennese court music, Antonio Salieri, and the brash new kid on the block, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It's been an award winning play, an Oscar winning film and is by now such a well known story that even The Simpsons has spoofed it (Magical History Tour - Lisa and Bart perfectly cast as Salieri and Mozart respectively). But I'd never seen it, other than in Simpsons form, and had always wanted to.

I was not disappointed. Not even a little bit. I love this play so much. Shaffer's writing is utterly lush, especially the passages that Salieri has talking about the beauty of music which spoke to a bit of my personality that hasn't been spoken to since I gave up all involvement in performing music over a decade ago. But his writing is also funny and sparky, and his characterisations rich and enlightening. Again, it's Salieri who gets the best deal here and his progression into the bitter and devious man he has become by the end of act two, throwing off all of his tortured appeals to his better nature from earlier points in the play, is thrilling to watch. Especially, of course, if you're watching a great actor portray it.

Which brings me to the second thing on that poster which gave me certainty I would love this production: the presence, as Salieri, of Lucian Msamati. In the past eighteen months or so I've seen Msamati in three things and I'm now at the point where I feel comfortable saying that I LOVE THIS MAN A LOT. Like, I would pay money to watch him read the phone book out loud sort of love. He was great earlier this year in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, he was breath taking last year in the RSC's Othello (making history all over the place as their first black Iago) and he is a minor force of nature in Amadeus.

Salieri is a huge part; barely off stage for a scene, working as both narrator and main character and across two time periods. The energy with which Msamati attacks all of these challenges is as infectious as it is effective, and seemingly effortless. His emotional depth is stunning, his comic timing is spot on and those afore mentioned passages about the beauty of music? Look, I wasn't crying it was just raining on my face. It's a near faultless performance that I would gladly sit through again and again. If Msamati doesn't make an appearance in my rapidly approaching 2016 bets performances post I'll be amazed.

There is so much more to love in this production than what is on the poster though. And one of the biggest things on that list is the presence of a real life, live orchestra and legit opera singers in the cast. Seriously, whoever thought to bring in the excellent Southbank Sinfonia and use them as effectively another character in the play deserves some kind of award. It's a masterstroke. It works so well, and really hammers home the fact that music is just a great thing. The staging is interesting too, tapping into the trend for overt theatricality with its open backed set and exposed backstage area. Given the overt theatricality of this play and its themes, this staging works and doesn't feel forced (though the orchestra packing up and getting their coats on at the end was probably pushing it a bit but then perhaps they're all reliant on Southern Trains to get home so needed to make a quick getaway). The Olivier's revolve is also cleverly used to give the otherwise quite minimalist setting some depth, literally and metaphorically speaking. It's conversion into an orchestra pit was particularly good.

In case you've not noticed, I loved this production and really can't recommend it enough. It's ine of the best things I've seen this year and frankly I feel sorry for people who don't get to see it. Tickets are currently scarce, but another lot is due to go on sale soon. Take advantage or be an idiot.

Amadeus is in the Olivier Theatre at the NT until 2nd February, with further dates to be announced. It gets the NT Live treatment on 2nd Feb too. 

Theatre Review: The Red Barn

Of all the genres I've seen on stage, thriller is probably by far the rarest.

Had I, before the NT's David Hare-penned The Red Barn entered stage left, ever seen one before? I don't think so. Having seen The Red Barn, have I seen one now? Probably, but I'm not 100% sure.

Written by Hare based on the novel La Main by Georges Simenon (he of Maigret fame), The Red Barn tells the story of two couples who get caught in a blizzard. When one person fails to emerge from said blizzard, the remaining three lives become tragically entangled in a mess of emotion and bodily fluids. It does not end well.

It's an odd little play in some ways and, on reflection, the play is the weakest part of the production. Billed as a thriller, which genre it undeniably does slot into, it's also maddeningly predictable. Every plot development is heavily sign posted, occasionally in a fun, 'hey, remember the weird opening scene? It's about to become super relevant' sort of way but more often in a glaringly obvious 'THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT' sort of way. Maybe it's just me, but I like my thrillers at least 100% twistier than The Red Barn. I struggle to think of it as a thriller at all to be honest.

Ultimately, it's difficult for the play to sustain the tension that the rest of the production, particularly the staging, is working its socks off to build.

The staging is bloody magnificent though and pretty much worth the price of a ticket on its own. Undoubtedly the most televisual - not cinematic, televisual - production I've ever seen, director Robert Icke and designer Bunny Christie (man, I wish that was my name) deliver an homage to Hitchcock via early series Madmen that is just incredibly compelling. The production is driven by a series of black rectangular blocks that move around to frame each scene, giving the look of watching the action on a massive TV. When a scene needs to expand to show off a hitherto unseen piece of the jigsaw the blocks slide around to accommodate that too. Visually impressive and, I assume, technically daring the effect is both instantly striking and also very memorable.

The production also benefits from a really brave use of darkness and silence, a welcome counterpoint to the constantly evolving set and the reasonably high number of special effects used. The special effects are well used though, and necessary to the plot, particularly the occasional use of strobe lighting. Extensive sections of audio recording become a little bit less interesting for being slightly overused, but are still a clever way to fill the space between scenes.

If the staging is the star of The Red Barn, and it is, then second billing must go to the reliably excellent Mark Strong who is, reliably, excellent as Donald, the lead character and the only one with any real nuance or emotional depth. He drives the plot on exceptionally well and does manage to draw a sense of unpredictability and danger into proceedings. Donald is appropriately named in that he's an unpleasant, insecure and vaguely pathetic character objectively, but in Strong's hands becomes somehow likeable if not altogether sympathetic. The female leads, Elizabeth Debicki and, on the night we were in, understudy Sarah Oliver-Watts, are dependably strong and do the best they can with the material available to them but both of their character are very broadly drawn and pretty much stereotypes; the fragile/manipulative, younger, blonder Other Woman and the faintly unhinged, keeping-up-appearances, WASPy wife respectively.

I'm aware there's a lot of snark in this post but I still, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, would recommend The Red Barn. The design alone is worth your time and any chance to see Mark Strong doing his thing live is one that should be seized with both hands. And it seems plenty of people agree with me, because ticket availability is almost nonexistent. Book now or miss out.

The Red Barn is in the Lyttleton Theatre at the National Theatre until January 17th.

Theatre Review: iHo

Or, to give it it's full name, The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide to Capitalism and Socialism with a Key to the Scriptures, or iHo. Yikes. I would love to have been a fly on the wall in the Hampstead Theatre's design and marketing office when that title was revealed. 

A play with a name this nuts is going to be one of two things: fatally pretentious or really, really smart. Thankfully iHo is the latter. But then it's written by Tony Kushner so really what do you expect? 

In some sense a more prosaic story than Kushner's most famous pieces, Angels in America (and, incidentally, putting this in your season a few months before the NT's star studded Angels opens is surely one of the smarter bits of theatrical marketing this year), iHo tells the story of the Marcantonio family reuniting as their father announces that he's going to kill himself. Emotional turmoil ensues.

What I liked best about iHo was unquestionably the writing. Kushner's Marcantonios are one of the most true to life families I've seen on stage, despite the extremity of both the situation of the play and the characters in it. He writes them messy, which sounds like a stupid thing to say but think about how you talk - and especially how you row - with your family and tell me it's neat. There are several scenes in the play when there are at least two different simultaneous conversations going on which, although occasionally difficult to follow, really gives the impression that this family are real and you've just somehow stumbled into their Brooklyn brownstone. 

The play also benefits from Kushner's usual ability to mix humour and pain perfectly, often in the same line never mind the same scene. There's plenty of anger thrown into the mix too, all different types of it. And, this being a Kushner, a healthy dollop of politics. Topically for the lefty idyll that is Hampstead, it takes as its political theme the trade off between principles and real life success and the potentially heartbreaking results whichever wins. Insert your own Labour Party joke here. 

Hampstead productions are always immaculately staged and this one is no exception. A single, relatively simple, three story brownstone set placed on a revolve so we see both inside and outside at various points and a judicious use of props allow the writing and the acting to shine. It's far less showy than the elaborate, moving sets I've seen at Hampstead before but no less effective for that. 

And it's completely right that the acting is given the chance to shine because it's ace. Technical term that. In a stellar but small ensemble it's difficult to pick favourites, but David Calder is great as suicidal patriarch Gus; completely plausible, emotionally rich and with a spot on New York accent that I loved listening to. Tamsin Greig is probably the standout for me though as Gus' favourite child (as she thinks) and the one who bares the brunt of his politically puritanical expectations. The final confrontation between father and daughter is the highlight of the play for me, beautifully emotional, raw, angry and completely believable. 

There's very little not to love in iHo. I rate it utterly and it's by far one of the most interesting things I've seen this year. I highly, highly recommend it. And, though it's completely unfair to think of it as an appetiser for something else as its own merits are so strong, if you are desperately waiting for the NT to finally release its Angels in America tickets this is definitely the thing to help you through. 

iHo plays at the Hampstead Theatre until 26th November. Tickets are understandably limited. Skates: on. 

Theatre Review: The Entertainer

In most plays there is a single moment that manages to somehow capture and summarise the whole show. Whether it’s a line, a visual or a special moment in a performance, it’s the one thing that always resolutely sticks in my memory.

In the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company’s production of The Entertainer, which I’ve been looking forward to for about eighteen months, it’s a song. Unfortunately, that song is called ‘Why Should I Care?’ and sums up in four words pretty much every feeling I had about this crushing disappointment of a show.

The Entertainer tells the story of faded musical hall star Archie Rice, through both his increasingly depressing on stage performances and his increasingly depressing homelife. Set against the backdrop of the Suez Crisis, it’s also a timely representation of a country in irreparable decline. Hashtag Brexit.

This production does a reasonable job of tying up all three parts, mostly through Christopher Oram’s suitably bleak-but-beautiful design that places a proscenium arch as the backdrop to all of the scenes, including those in the Rice family home. Any attempts to milk the contemporary parallels with Brexit are also mercifully side stepped, with the production content to let its audience make the connection for themselves. And the music hall scenes, complete with dancing girls and live band, are impressively done in an Ed-Balls-on-Strictly-but-with-a-knowing-wink sort of way. I enjoyed the Branagh take on Frankie Howard and would gladly see him do some kind of ironic stand up tour with it.

The family scenes, though, are close to the definition of tedious. Where in this family of terrible, boring people is the blistering anti-hero to root for that playwright John Osborne is supposed to be the master of? Is it supposed to be Archie? His daughter? This production left me with no idea and frankly little motivation to try and work it out. The fact that the entire family is some degree of drunk for most, or in some cases all, of the show also didn’t help for me. Drunk people are boring unless you’re one of them. (I had a glass of wine at the interval and enjoyed the second act more - coincidence?)

In the main, the acting is really nothing to write home about but thankfully there is a strong central performance from KenBran to anchor it. He delivers the only real emotional depth in the show, including the sole genuinely poignant moment as Archie disappears into the quiet darkness at the end of the show. His tap dancing is also impressive, as an aside. Even he has been better elsewhere this season though.

It’s really sad to see the Plays at the Garrick season go out with such a whimper rather than the bang it otherwise deserves. Because I’ve really enjoyed the rest of it. Some of it - The Painkiller, The Winter’s Tale, Harlequinade - has been amongst my favourite theatre of the past couple of years and even those that haven’t quite made that list - Red Velvet, Romeo and Juliet - have been eminently enjoyable and great productions.

It’s also been a real thrill to see Kenneth Branagh back on the stage, or at least immediately behind it, and cracking open his address book to deliver some genuinely top drawer casts. And his commitment to keeping ticket prices low - I paid £90 for the entire season, which is just astonishing when you stop and think about it - and capping the fees that agents could charge on them is incredibly admirable. I hope the rest of the West End takes note but suspect that it will not.

But more than anything I hope that the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company season two is announced very soon. Like, yesterday preferably.

The Entertainer is part of the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company’s Plays at the Garrick season and plays until 12th November.

Theatre Review: Young Chekhov

Saturday was a glorious, sunny day in London; possibly the last real day of summer. Because nothing says summer like angsty Russians, I decided to spend it sat inside watching over seven and a half hours of Chekhov.

Unless you’ve been living under a theatrical rock, you’ll have realised by now that I’m talking about the NT transfer of Chichester Festival Theatre’s Young Chekhov, and a three show day thereof to boot.

I’m not a natural Chekhov fan tbh. I find I have to work quite hard to be engaged in ‘period’ Russian drama, as my achingly slow progress through my current quest to read War and Peace will attest. However Young Chekhov is utterly brilliant, living up to its considerable hype completely. The three plays presented - Platonov, Ivanov and The Seagull - show that there’s much more to Chekhov than suicides and people with undecipherable names, though there are plenty of both, and I was really pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed (possibly the wrong word) the whole day.

The first play in the trilogy is, perhaps slightly unfortunately, also the best: Platonov. For me, this was a revelation. Bluntly, I didn’t know that Chekhov did comedy or at least comedy that isn’t just satire. There is satire in Platonov - notably around the corruption and greed of the older generation - but mostly the comedy is much broader, occasionally even slapstick. More importantly though, it’s very, very funny. I had no idea I could love a Chekhov play but, man, I loved Platonov.

Platonov also gives us our first introduction to what is arguably the star of Young Chekhov: the absolutely sky high production values. I don’t like throwing around the P word in reviews, but I think these productions might actually be, technically, perfect. The staging in particular is extraordinary. I’ve seen some amazing things done on/with/to the Olivier’s stage but filling it with water to create a series of lakes and streams under an elevated set is by some measure the most amazing. The staging is particularly dramatically used in Platonov, with the rapid arrival of a railway line in logic defying speed. Director Jonathan Kent and his team of designers must win some/all of the awards.

Another common theme of Young Chekhov’s success that also emerges in Platonov is the strength of the cast; across the three plays surely the best ensemble in London right now by some distance. In Platonov though it’s James McArdle in the title role who runs away with the show; a perfect (there’s that word again) mix of self loathing, sass and lazy charisma who handles the comedy like a pro. If his performance doesn’t make it into my top ten come the end of the year I’ll be very surprised. Nina Sosanya provides another highlight as a fiery, feisty and fierce Anna Petrovna, one of Platonov’s many love interests and a perfect foil for McArdle’s chaotic charm. The whole cast is a riot of energy and fun though and Platonov is a genuinely outstanding production.

Ivanov comes next in the trilogy and, for my money, is by far the weakest of the three plays. It’s very much a play of two halves: a raucous satire on the morals of ‘modern’ Russian society which is written with so little subtlety that I came very close to hating it and the more angsty, pensive drama which the titular character embodies and which I found much more effective, if a little ‘Chekhov by numbers’. A slightly simpler staging, though still with the fantastic water effects, and a much stiller energy pervade here framing a fantastically strong central performance from Geoffrey Streatfeild, one of my absolute faves. Working with a character who is surely one of the least well rounded and least sympathetic in all of theatre, Streatfeild captures Ivanov’s sense of impotent rage and self disgust so well. The scene where he finally explodes at his long suffering wife (Sosanya’s second iteration of Anna Petrovna) is electric. There is strong support from Jonathan Coy as Ivanov’s friend/new love interest’s father and by far the most interesting character in the play, caught between a wife he can’t stand and a society that won’t let him escape her, desperately trying to do the right thing for his daughter and his friend. I will never love Ivanov, the play or the character, but I’m glad that I got to see this production of it. A production this good can really elevate any source material.

And finally, The Seagull. For me, this was the nearest to what I was expecting Young Chekhov to be: angsty but intelligent and with the sort of interesting ideas behind it that I felt were missing in Ivanov. Primarily, this is a play about the old crushing the hopes and prospects of the young - depressingly relevant in Brexit Britain. It’s also a play about people refusing to realise their own mediocrity, insert your own Andrea Leadsom/Michael Gove joke here I suppose. Again, fantastic production values and acting abound with the sublime Anna Chancellor stealing scenes left, right and centre as the manipulative, arch and ultimately quite tragic Arkadina. Geoffrey Streatfeild is also great again, completing his double header of unsympathetic men as the really quite unpleasant but nonetheless compelling Tregorin. And shoutout to Olivia Vinall who clocks up her third romantic lead of the day - someone get that woman some wine! - with her best performance as an achingly sad Nina.

Overall, then, three fantastic productions - one genuinely outstanding - that are all 100% worth your time. Even if you think, like me, that you don’t really like Chekhov these productions are technically good enough to merit seeing them anyway. But hurry up, tickets are almost gold dust at this point. And justifiably so.

Young Chekhov is at the Olivier Theatre at the NT until October 8th.

Theatre Review: Kenny Morgan

Play-ja vu: the feeling you get watching a play that’s very similar to something you’ve seen before.

I wonder if there’s a separate faux French term for the feeling when you’re watching a play the story of which is actually the basis for something you’ve seen before?

Kenny Morgan, currently playing at the Arcola Theatre, tells the true story of the titular character and his ill fated relationship with the playwright Terence Rattigan. More interestingly, maybe, it is the real life inspiration for Rattigan’s masterpiece The Deep Blue Sea. Actually inspiration is probably not quite the right word, because DBS (as I shall henceforth be calling it because laziness) tells Morgan’s story to the letter. With one major plot change and the obvious difference in the gender of the central character, there are precious few difference between the two plays. So it’s not that surprising that, despite playwright Mike Poulton’s protestations to the contrary, a good chunk of Kenny Morgan is a scene-for-scene remake of DBS. Whether you think this is a bad thing or not will depend on your view of DBS; as previously noted I love that play and so seeing it in its ‘true life’ form was fascinating.

For all that the plot is near identical, Kenny Morgan does well to draw out some different thematic points. In contrast to the NT’s huge, glamorous DBS the Arcola uses it’s bijou performance space to create something much grimier. This emphasises Kenny’s ‘fall’ from Rattigan’s glamorous toyboy to slumming it in a bedsit in Camden and brings class as an issue into this piece in a way it isn’t in DBS, opening up another philosophical angle since the exploration of gender is removed. The destructive nature of secrecy and shame (and a lack thereof) is also played up as a major theme in this piece. The way that Rattigan’s secrecy (and shame?) around his gay relationships and Alec Lennox’s - Kenny’s new boyfriend - lack of any discretion and certainly any shame around his variously-orientated affairs conspire to destroy Kenny is a really interesting idea that is beautifully explored.

This is a fantastically classy, evocative production too. The set may be, as previously noted, smaller and less ambitious than the NT’s equivalent but it’s no less effective for that. Sound and lighting are cleverly and sparingly used to emphasise the sparseness and coldness of the flat - and the relationship - that Kenny has found himself in. Director Lucy Bailey paces the production consistently well without rushing it, particularly in the big confrontation scenes. And Poulton’s writing is great, creating not only a faithful homage to Rattigan but also a clipped, formal, bleak and tragic world all of its own.

The production also benefits from a first rate cast, from which Paul Keating and Simon Dutton particularly standout as Kenny and Rattigan respectively. Keating creates a painfully relatable, conflicted Kenny desperate for love and acceptance and finding it, as far as he can see, nowhere. Dutton’s Rattigan is a great contrast, achingly charismatic but just hinting at a secret sadness somewhere behind the public image. George Irving also deserves a mention for a pleasingly unreadable Mr Ritter, the mysteriously struck off doctor character who is given a rather more rounded role in this than his DBS equivalent to great effect. (Also he was Mr Meyer in Holby City and for this I will always love him.)

I really enjoyed Kenny Morgan and would go as far as to say it is worth trekking to fucking Dalston for (to the extent anything ever is). A really interesting piece in its own right, moreso if you’ve seen The Deep Blue Sea as well, and a great production. Also try the orange and polenta cake in their cafe. It’s lush.

Kenny Morgan plays at the Arcola Theatre until 15th October.

Theatre Review: Iron

In a game of word association based on the phrase ‘the Lake District’, ‘taut prison drama’ may not be the obvious response.

How many theatres have this on their doorstep?

It is currently a valid one though, thanks to the excellent Theatre by the Lake in Keswick. A fucking adorable theatre - or theatres actually, since it has a small main auditorium and a teeny tiny studio - which is 100% worth a visit if you’re in the area (for the lemon meringue cake alone, frankly), TBTL is currently staging Iron. Written by Rona Munro, of The James Plays fame, Iron tells the story of Faye, a woman serving a life sentence for murdering her husband, and Josie, her long lost daughter who comes to visit her in prison for the first time in 15 years in an attempt to learn the truth about her mother and her past. What follows is a fantastic few hours of genuinely gripping, surprisingly non-bleak, psychodrama and one of the most exciting pieces of acting I’ve seen all year.

Performed on the traverse in the aforementioned teeny tiny studio, to say Iron is minimally staged would be something of an understatement. Appropriately so, though, given the entire piece is set in a prison. The performance space (approximately the size of a couple of large dining tables) is cleverly used as, variously, Faye’s cell, the prison yard and for most of the action the visiting room. The bare concrete, harsh white lighting and prison bars at both ends of the space are simply done but very effective and the sparse use of props is distressingly realist. The very occasional use of music, such as for Faye’s euphoric dance of joy at the end of act one where it looks like mother and daughter will live (relatively) happily ever after, is an interesting punctuation that works really well. There is nowhere to hide in this space, for audience or actor.

The play itself is great too. Munro has a great ear for dialogue, especially ‘Scottish’ dialogue, and this piece is no exception. It is sparky, quick, earthy and real; dealing with the moments of humour as well as the (much more numerous) moments of drama and anger. The plotting is razor sharp; twisty without losing its grit or its grounding. She has created some fantastic characters too, not just Faye and Josie but the two prison guards who have much less to do but are rounded and interesting characters nonetheless.

This is Faye’s play though, or more accurately Elizabeth Marsh’s who plays her. ‘Plays’ is something of an undersell in this case actually because holy hell this is a performance and a half. I can’t think of a performance I’ve seen all year that was as exciting as this. It’s one of those rare occasions where you watch someone in a part and it feels like they are that part. And it’s magical. Marsh doesn’t shy away from Faye, a huge part who never leaves the stage and has well over half of the lines, and doesn’t shy away from presenting her as a complicated, morally ambiguous, figure. She doesn’t play up for sympathy or try to present her as in any way evil. She’s just human, for all her issues and problems, and this is something that’s not as easy as it sounds to achieve with this part in this play. Marsh owns this production thoroughly. It was a privilege to trespass into her world for a few hours.

She is supported ably by Helen Macfarlane as a naive but nuanced and fiercely protective Josie. Roger Delves-Broughton and Rebecca Carrie round out the cast as the two prison guards that constitute Faye’s social world, the latter of whom has an irritatingly wandering accent that rather takes the sheen off an otherwise good performance.

I loved this show. A lot. It’s as good as almost anything you’ll see in London but because it’s not in London it’s infinitely cheaper and has better cake portion sizes (huge). Should you be in the area, or if you fancy a break to the stunning Lakes, then you must see this.

Iron plays in the Studio at Theatre by the Lake, Keswick, in rep until 4th November.