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: Romeo and Juliet

Call me a heretic, but I'm not a big fan of Romeo and Juliet.

One of the greatest love stories ever told? No. Two annoying rich kids falling in love with the idea of being in love and fucking up everything they touch in the process? Yes.

With the arguable exception of the Baz Luhrmann film version, most productions of this play don’t seem to share my view. It’s always played so straight and earnestly that I slightly want to vomit almost continuously. And, when the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company season was announced, the inclusion of this piece was the thing I was least excited about. I was pretty convinced that not even my oft stated and increasingly ardent Branagh obsession could make me love this play.

And indeed it didn't. I still think Romeo and Juliet is over hyped, over sentimental and over cooked. So in some ways it slightly irks me to have to report that, despite all that, I thoroughly enjoyed this production.

Image source.

Mostly this is because - finally - here is a production of Romeo and Juliet which treats the story with the irreverance it deserves. This is the first production of this play I've ever seen which treats the silly teenage 'lovers' as exactly that, playing up the comedy and the ridiculousness in a text which is riper with the potential for laughs than most directors seem to realise. Occasionally it's slightly overdone (I had some issues with Meera Syal's Nurse who once or twice tipped a bit too far into pantomime territory for me) but by and large the tone is subtly struck. Huge kudos to KenBran and his co-director/choreographer Rob Ashford for their quietly revelatory approach.

The best scene of the piece sums up this approach perfectly: the famous balcony scene ('Romeo, Romeo' etc etc) played between a slightly pissed Juliet swigging a bottle of wine and a wryly nervous Romeo, fawning over her every hiccup. It turns the supposedly most romantic scene in the play into mild, but very funny, farce and I absolutely loved it for doing so.

This is also a very sexy production, aesthetically and atmospherically. Christopher Oram's design borrows heavily from a compilation of every Fellini film ever and suitably evokes a dangerous fringe of La Dolce Vita. The 1950s setting definitely works in the production's favour, especially in the underplayed cool of the costumes. I'm 100% in favour of anything that puts Richard Madden in a slim fitting suit and/or a leather jacket.

Speaking of whom, a lot of the print reviews really stuck the rapier, as it were, into Madden's Romeo but for my money he's one of the highlights of the cast. He's particularly strong when there's more comedy for him to play with but is certainly no slouch in the heavier, more dramatic moments either. In a strong ensemble, Ansu Kabia's Tybalt, all dangerous bravado and swagger, and Michael Rouse's violent and threatening Capulet are the scene stealers; the latter in particular providing one of the production's most striking and effecting scenes when he brutally enforces his will on his daughter that she will marry the nonentity that is Count Paris. Derek Jacobi's Mercutio is entertainingly cynical and Lily James' Juliet suitably beautiful (and irritating) but neither, for my money, warrant the hype they've received in the proper reviews.

There are bits of this production that don't work - the distracting sound design, the slightly cringeworthy ball scene, the random insertion of songs and bursts of Italian - but overall it's really great fun. And it made me not hate Romeo and Juliet as a play, which is worthy of note enough on its own, frankly. I would recommend it, even to my most cynical of friends. And I have some very cynical friends.

Romeo and Juliet is part of the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company's Plays at the Garrick season and is on until 13th August. It has a live cinema broadcast on 7th July.

Theatre Review: The Painkiller

There hasn't been that much farce in the West End in recent years, with the unintentional and brilliant exception of Stephen Ward. And honestly that’s just the way I like it. I'm not, with a few notable exceptions, a huge fan.

One thing I am very much a fan of though is Kenneth Branagh. You may have noticed this if you’re a regular reader or have, like, ever bumped into me in the street and seen my many, large tattoos proclaiming my love*. And if Kenneth Branagh and his eponymous theatre company are staging a farce, with the boss in a lead role, then I am damn well seeing that farce.

Enter The Painkiller, an adaptation of a French farce involving a hitman (Branagh) and a suicidal loser (Rob Brydon, who I also have deep, Welsh love for) in adjoining hotel rooms, directed (and adapted) by comedy ace and previous KB collaborator Sean Foley. As with all farces the plot is both deeply convoluted and sort of irrelevant, but safe to say there are lots of misunderstandings, prat falls, instances of semi-nudity and, perhaps less common, swearing.  

Image source.

For my money, farce has to be done exceptionally well to be funny. The Painkiller is more than exceptionally done and it is fucking hilarious. There’s your headline: you should go and see this play because it’s face-achingly funny. Really that’s all you need to know.

‘But why is it so funny?’, I hear no one ask. Well, I’ll tell you.

At the simplest level it is technically spot on. As far as I can see, to make this sort of slapstick stuff work is basically like choreographing a particularly ungainly dance, and the choreography here is perfect. There are several sequences that involve synchronised movements where neither actor can see the other that are bang on time and a lot of fight scenes that would be boringly repetitive, and deeply ugly, if they weren't so well thought through and executed. Structurally it’s very tight too, with some great call backs to earlier details and tiny throwaway references (the bit with the cushion shower and the subtle nod to Alan Partridge being my personal, spoiler free, favourites) which work really well. It’s a pacey little thing too, coming in at a breathless but not rushed 90 minutes. 90 minutes of utter joy.

I wouldn't normally go out of my way to praise the writing in a farce but this is a really fun piece even without the slapstick exploits. I have no idea, and no particular inclination to find out, how faithful Foley has been to his source material but either way it’s great writing with some great jokes. Similarly, whilst the plot is highly implausible it doesn't stray into the realms of the impossible and so stays funny rather than perplexing. And whilst the characters are very obvious comic constructs - straight man and pathetic foil - the way the play flips the constructs onto different characters at different points is cleverly done.

It won’t surprise you to know that, in my entirely unbiased opinion, it’s the performances that make this production sing. Rob Brydon is always great as the lovable loser, although quite how lovable this particular loser is is rather open to debate, and isn't asked to do much outside his comfort zone for the part of the hapless Brian. Which is in no way a bad thing - he is hysterical - and is actually quite a canny piece of casting as it gives the audience an anchor; you know what you’re going to get from Brian as soon as Brydon walks on the stage and he delivers it perfectly.

Of course you think you know what you’re going to get as soon as Ken Branagh walks on the stage as the suave and cool hired gun Ralph. But you’re wrong. Ralph almost immediately loses control of the situation and finds himself in the hands (/loving arms) of Brian and the clusterfuck of characters and situation around him, which allows for the joyous transformation of the straight man you expect into the slapstick comedy foil. This play on our expectations gets Branagh all the biggest laughs and rightly so. His temporary reinvention as a physical comedian is a revelation, even to a sad obsessive fan like me. He throws himself into the part - figuratively and literally - with a commitment that seriously pays off with a range of silly accents, falling over, dancing and physical contortions that are hilarious. Basically, if you want to see one of our most distinguished actor/writer/director/producers making a completely tit of himself, and clearly enjoying it, this is the play for you. Also he ends up in various stages of undress several times, which may be relevant to your interests. Or perhaps that’s just me.

In case you’re an idiot and haven’t worked it out, I loved The Painkiller deeply and with passion. There’s no great depth to it, no lesson to come away with at the end, but who the fuck cares? It’s just great, great fun and I urge you to see it immediately and repeatedly. It gladdened my stony heart, and not just because I got to see Ken Branagh in his pants.

The Painkiller is part of the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company’s Plays at the Garrick season and plays until 30th April.




*This is a joke, but only because I can't find a tattoo artists prepared to ink 'I LOVE YOU KB' across my forehead. 

Theatre Review: Red Velvet

I'm at the midpoint of my passionate love affair with the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company season and that thought makes me deeply anxious.

With three plays seen and just three to see there has yet to be any announcement of a second season and COME ON GUYS THERE NEEDS TO BE ONE.

Sorry. As I said, anxious. My point stands though, however shouty it may be.

Anyway, one of the key themes of this first season is turning the lens (or the audience, I suppose) inward and looking at the theatre itself - see also Harlequinade and The Entertainer which bookend the season. Sitting plum in the middle is play number three, Red Velvet.

Image source. I will never tire of seeing this frontage.

Written by Lolita Chakrabarti and directed by Indhu Rubasingham - girls certainly run this world - Red Velvet tells part of the extraordinary story of Ira Aldridge one of the first black actors to make his name playing Shakespearean roles (he’s still the only black actor to have a memorial plaque at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre). The play picks up in 1833, when Aldridge was drafted into the company of the Covent Garden Theatre to cover the title role in Othello after current star Edmund Kean collapsed during a performance. The reaction of the company (some of) and the British press (all of) is sadly not difficult to predict.

A timely piece in the wake of #OscarsSoWhite and associated ridiculousness, Red Velvet is a hugely powerful and exciting work. Previously seen at the Tricycle Theatre and off-Broadway, it is nonetheless richly deserving of its place in the KBTC season (despite the notable lack of any KB, though I like to imagine he’s backstage making the tea or something).

The writing is simple but excellent - angry, wry, unflowery - and some of the seemingly casual observations Chakrabarti draws the audience to make are very clever; the apparently ardent abolitionist unquestioningly chucking his coat in the general direction of a black servant is my particular favourite. The characters are vividly realised and three dimensional - Aldridge is not presented as a total saint just as other members of the company are not presented as total sinners. As the play within a play, parallels with Othello aren't hammered home as heavily as a lesser work may have done. The fact that the company’s racist in chief Charles (a suitably smug and impotent-rage-filled Mark Edel-Hunt) is due to be playing Iago opposite Aldridge is a pleasing little joke. The self consciously theatrical staging is clever too, with the entire cast onstage at more or less all times, those not needed sitting in tiny dressing rooms along the wings. The use of the real reviews that Aldridge’s performance got makes for a deeply uncomfortable and sickening ten minutes of excellent verbatim theatre.

The main appeal of this production, though, is Adrian Lester’s towering central performance as Aldridge - 100% worth the price of your ticket alone. His Aldridge is, initially, such a cool character (with such a convincing accent that you do occasionally have to remind yourself that this is a British actor you’re watching) and so instantly easy to sympathise with that his inevitable fall is all the more terrible. His confrontation with one time friend, ally and manager of the Covent Garden, Pierre (Emun Elliott - solid, authoritative and well accented) is heartbreaking and Lester manages the vacillation between rage, sadness and desperation in this, relatively short, scene expertly. Whilst the flashforward scenes that bookend the action are less effective - and arguably unnecessary - Lester is still fantastic as the older, broken Aldridge. And, mild spoiler alert, the ‘whiteing up’ in the play’s final scene is incredible effective and deeply disturbing, visually and ethically.

By far the best sequence of the whole play, though, is the play within a play bit where we get to see Lester’s Aldridge do his stuff. It is, simply, thrilling. I’ve seen Adrian Lester play Othello in real life (non-spoiler: he was excellent) but this sequence is something else. Even though the acting style looks old fashioned to a modern audience, there’s no question that it’s also phenomenally powerful, frightening and vocally and physically commanding. I would happily watch this Othello in its entirety.

Overall, then, this gets a big ol thumbs up from me. Everyone should see Adrian Lester’s performance, if nothing else. And there is a lot of ‘else’ you should see also. Get tickets now or it regret it later.

Red Velvet is part of the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company’s Plays at the Garrick season and plays until February 27th.

Theatre Review: Harlequinade / All On Her Own

I'm not sure I've ever been so in love with a theatre company that I've bought a snowglobe to advertise the fact. Thank goodness the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company has come along to remedy that!

All joking and snowglobes aside, I'm just staggered at the quality of this company. Whether on or off stage it’s mindbending and the potential range of work that they can do fantastically as a result is ridiculously vast. Their opening double bill is a pretty audacious - and, spoiler, altogether successful - statement of that fact.

Terrence Rattigan isn't a playwright I know a huge amount, or indeed anything, about and to be honest I’d never heard of either of the plays that KBTC are staging to comprise the second part of their aforementioned double bill: All On Her Own and Harlequinade. Which I suppose actually makes it a triple bill, or at least a double-and-a-bit bill. But I digress.

Image source.

The Rattigan double header opens with All On Her Own which is a slightly odd addition to the bill. It’s an interesting yet bleak twenty minute monologue, where a widow getting slowly pissed as she struggles to cope with her husband’s death questions whether she drove him to suicide, which Zoe Wanamaker acts beautifully. All well and good, but I'm not clear by what logic it sits as a warm up act to the raucous theatrical farce that follows. Presumably the logic of ‘look, we've got Zoe Wanamaker so let’s give her something meaty to do’ which, to be fair, is difficult logic to argue with. There’s nothing wrong with it at all, as with everything KBTC so far it’s immaculately done, it’s just a bit unnecessary. And as you can probably tell by the fact I've reviewed it in a paragraph didn't make a lasting impression on me!

If my praise for All On Her Own is qualified though, my love for Harlequinade is not.

A short (#WarOnIntervals) and silly farce, Harlequinade tells the story of a hapless theatre company touring a production of Romeo and Juliet to the provinces ‘for the public good’ when it transpires that their legendary (and legendarily idiotic) actor/manager leading man is an accidental and longstanding bigamist.

To put it bluntly, this play is fucking funny. It doesn't have a secret agenda and there isn't any hidden depth to it, and that’s completely fine. It just makes you laugh; loudly and consistently. Rattigan’s writing obviously deserves a big ol’ chunk of the credit for this, as does Christopher Oram’s convincingly amateurish design and Rob Ashford’s pleasingly daft choreography (there’s a gloriously poorly done fight sequence, which made me laugh an undignified amount, that deserves particular credit).

But the majority of the humour is derived from the acting. As with The Winter’s Tale there are almost too many notable performances to mention but Hadley Fraser’s excitable halberdier (with an excellent Brummie accent) and Tom Bateman’s constantly-close-to-a-breakdown stage manager are personal favourites. Zoe Wanamaker is an unapologetic scene stealer (in what is essentially a cameo) as the unhinged and ferocious Dame Maude, and her rants at the expense of the Old Vic and Sadler’s Wells are catnip to any theatre geek.

This is Ken Branagh’s show though. His Arthur Gosport is a glorious creation; preening, ridiculous, ego-maniacal yet at all times staying on the right side of the credibility line. It’s not a revelation (to me anyway) that Branagh can do comedy very well but the fact that he can do slapstick comedy very well is something new and fabulous. And there is some big slapstick in this too - both his elaborate fainting and his ‘natural’ Romeo death which involves about the same amount of flailing about as what I do to get out of a beanbag chair are belly laugh funny. In many ways the smaller slapstick (is slapstick quantifiable by size? I'm going with it) is even funnier though. Both his much mocked “little jump” onto a bench during the balcony scene and repeated sequences in which he wanders earnestly around the stage moving an obviously fake fancy plant pot about are genuinely hilarious. And the extent to which he’s prepared, implicitly or otherwise, to send himself up is so refreshing. I love him. As you might have noticed.

Here’s a controversial opinion to end with: I liked Harlequinade better than The Winter’s Tale. I'm not saying that it’s a better production or a better play (though I think you can make a strong argument for the latter) but I found it more enjoyable. And what’s more there are actually a smattering of tickets left so if I were to say ‘you should go and see this play as a matter of urgency’ you actually can. Hurrah! Now, go and see this play as a matter of urgency.

Oh and in case you thought I was joking about the snowglobe...

Image source.

Harlequinade and All On Her Own are playing (in rep) as part of the Plays at the Garrick season until January 13th.

Theatre Review: The Winter's Tale

What do you know about Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale?

Go on think about it. I'll wait. 

...

Ok? Good. If you came up with anything more than 'exit, pursued by a bear' then you're either lying or much, much cleverer than me. Either is possible, frankly. 

Anyhoo, the point I'm labouring here is that The Winter's Tale was not a play I knew at all before seeing the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company production of it. 

Approaching even with the most open of minds there is no question that this is not a great play. I believe the adjective most frequently attached to it is 'problematic' which seems a fair assessment to me. It's a play of two halves really and, to be fair, the first half (the tragedy bit, as jealousy crazed King Leontes causes his family to die in various ways) has a lot going for it - it's basically Diet Othello and that's kind of cool with me. The 'redemptive' second half, and in particular, the big (SPOILERY) reveal that dead Queen Hermione is actually sort of alive in statue form, I have less time for.  My suspension of disbelief is just not willing enough to buy it. 

But whilst the play might not be great this production certainly is. 

First of all, let's just agree that seeing Kenneth Branagh and Judi Dench doing Shakespeare, any Shakespeare, is simply an utter joy. To see them doing it together is blissful. They are both on superb form here. Dench is a definitive Paulina; sassy, wise, stealing scenes and delivering whatever Mr S would have called mic drops left, right and centre. And no one but no one speaks Shakespeare as well as KenBran. Even if Leontes is a complete shit for most of this play, Branagh makes him a compelling, human and believable shit who you absolutely want to see more of. It's a real honour to see these two acting together in the flesh (you have to wonder if it will ever happen again). 

The company they're surrounded by is (almost) equally excellent. Whilst there's no weak link to speak of, John Shrapnel's authoritative Camillo, Hadley Fraser's wronged-but-actually-a-bit-of-a-bastard Polixenes and Michael Pennington's (what a legend) tragic Antigonus are personal highlights. Also Tom Bateman (Florizel) and his lovely chest, but that's by the by. 

This production looks so beautiful too. Christopher Oram is on typically perfect form with his beautiful designs (though I was disappointed with the 'pursued by a bear' sequence - perhaps I've been spoiled by The Hairy Ape but I wanted a proper bear not a cop out projection!) and setting the action unapologetically at Christmas gives him a lot to work with. His costumes are equally beautiful, something only enhanced for me by the fact that Leontes' wardrobe is vaguely reminiscent of Harry Potter's Gilderoy Lockhart (seriously, Google this and check out the similarities). Rob Ashford's choreography is joyfully exuberant in all the right places, especially the pastoral scene. 

All of this gives the action an unashamedly cinematic feel which totally works and is enhanced by approximately 100% by (long time Branagh collaborator) Patrick Doyle's beautiful yet unobtrusive music. Were there to be a soundtrack album, I would buy it. 

Overall then this is a total winner and a fantastic start to the KBTC's Plays at the Garrick residency. I would urge you to see it, but it's sold out and the live broadcast has been and gone. Watch out for encore screenings as a matter of urgency. 

The Winter's Tale is playing (in rep) at the Garrick until 16th January.