(January 21-February 6, 2005)

My Latest London Theatre Trip (January 21-February 6, 2005) As a regular visitor to London over the past 25 years, I have seen literally hundreds of shows and I’m always amazed by the incredible variety and quality of what is on offer at any particular time. The following capsule commentaries on the shows I took in during my recent trip are in alphabetical order and I’ve highlighted the names of various actors whose performances I particularly enjoyed.

Acorn Antiques (Haymarket preview)

I heard that this was a “hot” ticket so I made a special effort to see it.  Not being familiar with the 1980s TV soap opera spoof by author Victoria Wood which starred the same cast as the same characters they play in the second act here, I’m sure I missed some of the allusions that had the preview audience I was part of convulsed with laughter.  The first act of this show is quite different—it’s about a bunch of amateurs being coached into putting on a show by a “professional” director (who is made up to look strangely like Trevor Nunn—the director of AA).  For various reasons, the actual song-and-dance show they put on in the second act is not the one originally contemplated, but it’s very funny.  It’s a confrontation between Merry Olde England and Tacky New England and includes numerous send-ups of current West End hits such as Les Miz, Blood Brothers and Saturday Night Fever that even I recognized.  Julie Walters is simply perfect as Mrs. Overall, the house cleaner who controls all she surveys.  The performance I saw, the second preview, was a bit disjointed and way too long at nearly three hours.  But, if they get their acts together, Acorn Antiques stands to be a big crowd-pleaser.

Aladdin (Old Vic)

I’d never seen a “panto” before and friends said that this one was too gussied up for the West End to be the real thing.  Nevertheless, it had plenty of slapstick for the kiddies and lots of sly jokes (even political ones) for the adults, plenty of audience participation, Widow Twankey (Ian McKellan) in several varieties of drag (a Mama Mia dancing queen, Dame Edna) and Maureen Lipman as his opposite number in knickers and spats.  Who knew McKellan had such great legs?  My fave Roger Allam was Abanazzar, the resident baddie, and did a suitably over-the-top job of it.  The elaborate sets, which included every Chinese cliché you’ve ever seen, were appropriately tacky--the work of the great John Napier.  Who knew that the Xmas “art form” could be so much fun?

The Anniversary (Garrick)

Sheila Hancock is the protagonist—Mum—in this competent revival of a period piece from the 1960s.  In the original production, she played Karen, the daughter-in-law here played by Rosie Cavaliero, who is trying to extricate her husband, one of Mum’s three weak sons, from Mum’s clutches.  In her efforts to keep hold of her sons’ attention and care, Mum goes completely off the charts in manipulating their emotions.  She is truly a mother from hell.  Hancock eats up the role with relish.  A good matinee filler.

Blithe Spirit (Savoy)

This generous (three acts, seven scenes) but contrived Noel Coward confection presents a few days in the life of a suburban gent and his starchy second wife when he’s confronted by the ghost of his more free-wheeling first wife.  It is a delicious drawing-room comedy, a classic of its type.  This production, directed by Thea Sharrock, features a perfect turn from Penelope Keith as the not totally competent but completely concerned “medium” Madame Arcati, also great showings by Amanda Drew and Joanna Riding, as wives numbers one and two, respectively.  I was less taken with Aden Gillett as the husband, but playing a pompous prig is probably not the easiest thing to do.

The Dog in the Manger (RSC at the Playhouse)

This romp is Lope de Vega’s gift to the RSC’s season of Spanish plays from the 17^th century, one of hundreds of plays he wrote during a relatively short life.  It’s a pip.  Take one truly snotty Countess being pursued (for her money) by all sorts of creepy aristos discovering that her gorgeous (male) secretary is involved with one of her ladies in waiting and…you get the idea.  It’s fast, it’s funny and the upper crust gets the upper hand in the end.  So what else is new?  As energetically directed by Laurence Boswell with gorgeous sets and costumes by Es Devlin, the sprightly young cast headed by Rebecca Johnson, Joseph Millson, Simon Trinder, Claire Cox and Katherine Kelly provides a most entertaining evening.  If you can see only one of the Spanish plays on view at the Playhouse, this is the one.

Don Carlos (Gielgud)

Transferred from the Crucible in Sheffield and directed by Michael Grandage, this is simply a great production of a great play.  Here’s King Philip II’s weak son and heir Don Carlos, still smitten with his beautiful and faithful stepmother Elizabeth to whom he was once engaged, trying to make his way between his iron-fisted distant father and his best friend the revolutionary Marquis of Posa.  And they’re all in the thrall of a rigid and intolerant Catholic Church.  The plot is a powerful web of intrigue and betrayal and the black, under lit and over-incensed set is perfect.  So is Derek Jacobi’s performance as the cold yet seemingly vulnerable King.  Richard Coyle, Elliot Cowan and Claire Price do very well in support. It rarely gets better than this.

A Dream Play (NT Cottesloe preview)

It’s hard to know what to say about a 1902 play by a famous Swedish playwright that’s been transferred to 1950s Britain by a well-known contemporary writer with (in the words of the program) “additional material by [the director] and the company.”  Whose play are we seeing?  Turns out it doesn’t matter.  The show recreates the dreams of a London stockbroker with so much theatrical wit and skill that you really don’t care where it came from.  Directed by Katie Mitchell, the talented and energetic cast is headed by Angus Wright, Anastasia Hille and Lucy Whybrow.  Literally hundreds of scenes—including office politics, sexual awakenings, library research, family quarrels, chorus lines in ballet tutus—are strung together in a dazzling display of stagecraft.  Despite two stoppages “for safety reasons” at the preview I saw, it was totally mesmerizing.

Festen (Lyric Shaftesbury)

This transfer from the Almeida, based on the 1998 Danish movie The Celebration, has garnered many kudos on its way to West End hitdom.  It’s a “skunk at the garden party” tale about a family reunion for Dad’s 60^th birthday at which one son declares that he and his late twin sister were sexually abused in childhood by the honoree.  After this shocking revelation, the only focus is on how much enjoyment can be garnered by the attendees from the rest of the weekend they are spending together.  There’s also a subplot in which we discover that the pedophile Dad is also a racist.  Though it was strikingly designed and competently acted under the direction of Rufus Norris, I kept asking myself “why did you pay good money to see such an unpleasant play about such unpleasant people?”

Fix Up (NT Cottesloe)

Like Cuckoo’s Nest (which I saw on the same day), the latest play by Kwame Kwei-Armah (whose last play Elmina’s Kitchen was a bit hit at the NT last year) took me to a kind of place I don’t usually frequent—a black bookstore in a ghetto neighborhood.  Here a neighborhood guru (Jeffrey Kissoon) oversees a hub of activities (are they training terrorists in the upstairs apartment?) and tries to uphold and teach important traditions despite various economic woes.  Some of his protégés are more interested in selling Afro-Sheen than being guided by books.  But it turns out that he’s a hypocrite too and violence ensues.  The various characters who pass thru are wonderfully vivid, especially Claire Benedict as a local “angel”.  The set made me drool—20 foot high bookshelves.

Grand Hotel (Donmar)

This musical is based on the old movie of the same name about the comings and goings in a vibrant lobby during the Weimar period in Berlin.  The schmaltzy score is appropriate but contains no memorable tunes.  Perhaps because I was spoiled by a New York production of this show in the 1980s that starred the late David Carroll and the late Michael Jeter, I wasn’t too impressed by their London counterparts—Julien Ovenden and Daniel Evans (who was a great Candide at the NT a couple of years ago).  However, the whole production—sets, costumes, movement—directed by Michael Grandage in the intimate Donmar is visually stunning.  I was especially wowed by the choreography of Adam Cooper.

House of Desires (RSC at the Playhouse)

This 17^th century play is part of the RSC’s Spanish season though it was written by a Mexican nun who joined a relatively liberal convent in order to have the freedom to write what she pleased without being encumbered by a husband and traditional family.  Given its origin, the play about the ruses used by a brother and sister to capture the objects of their hearts’ desires is surprisingly modern.  Highlights include several scenes played “in the dark” and a too-long cross-dressing number by that stellar clown Simon Trinder.  The rest of the mostly-young cast is energetic and attractive.  I would especially mention the physical attractions of my hunk of the moment Joseph Millson.  Not top-notch, but pleasant and with glorious costumes.

Macbeth (Almeida)

London is awash in Macbeths.  There’s one set in Africa at the Wilton Music Hall.  The estimable Greg Hicks is about to arrive with the RSC version at the Albery.  The one I saw at the Almeida featured the masterly verse-speaking of the great Simon Russell Beale.  Never before have I felt each nuance of Macbeth’s struggle to get himself ready for the dirty deeds at hand.  It grabbed me and kept me rapt through all three hours (much longer than usual) of the performance.  But the focus on Macbeth’s head kept the action of this show to a minimum (as, perhaps, did Russell Beale’s startlingly overweight condition).  That robbed it of some of the visceral excitement that often accompanies this play.  Emma Fielding was a subdued Lady Macbeth.  I wouldn’t want this to have been the first or the only Macbeth I had seen, but it was a fascinating one.

Man and Boy (Duchess)

Terence Rattigan’s tale of the visit of a Roumanian financier whose economic empire is about to collapse to the Greenwich Village basement apartment of his long-estranged son, is far-fetched.  Especially the part where the father uses his son’s supposed homosexuality to trap a covertly-gay rival.  Nevertheless, this production of a 1960s play, directed by Maria Aitken, brings the incredible David Suchet to the West End to show us all how a great actor, with an eyebrow or a slight change in tone of voice, can convey the inner traumas of a vile character in a most attractive way.  The supporting cast, which includes Ben Silverstone as the son, David Yelland as an obsequious but not stupid second-in-command and Helen Grace as the financier’s extravagant wife, is fine.  But Suchet is the show.

The Mandate (NT Cottesloe)

This farce dates from about the same period as Grand Hotel but this time it was the Soviet Union, not Germany, and the aristos were trying to maintain their relatively affluent life styles while prudently paying obeisance to the governing Commies (though here it turns out to be middle-class Commie-wannabes).  Being a Russian play, the humor ran to spaghetti-filled pots on heads and hiding in trunks, so the overall level of sophistication was low.  But the staging by Declan Donellen was fluid and the performances by pros like Deborah Findlay and Adrian Scarborough were suitably droll.

Mary Poppins (Prince Edward)

This show has an awful lot in common with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang which has been playing in the West End for several years now.  They are both based on children’s literature as filtered through movies which starred Dick Van Dyke and had music by the Sherman brothers.  They both have elaborate productions by major directors—Richard Eyre (MP) and Adrian Noble (CCBB)—and make use of all sorts of stage gimmicks and marvels (often the same ones).  I really enjoyed MP and heartily disliked CCBB.  Why?  CCBB struck me as strictly a kiddie show.  No amount of chocolate or flying cars got my attention.  In MP, however, the rituals of the Victorian household and workplace interspersed with truly spectacular production numbers sparked my interest and enjoyment.  The cast, headed by Gavin Lee, Laura Michelle Kelly and David Haig, is great.

A Minute Too Late (NT Lyttleton)

This is a revival of the three-hander from the mid-1980s that originally drew attention to Complicité, a company that has produced a string of hits with its unique brand of physical and aural presentation.  Here the original cast—Josef Houben, Simon McBurney and Marcello Magni—has reassembled to recreate its 75-minute comic exegesis of the rituals of death.  Despite the serious subject, there are moments of real hilarity such as visiting the bureaucracy to get a copy of the death certificate.  There’s also a very funny though extraneous re-creation of a wild ride in a hearse.  The cast has lost nothing in physical prowess in the 20 or so years since the original production.

National Anthems (Old Vic)

I guess that Kevin Spacey thinks that they way to attract young audiences to the Old Vic is to feed their supposed obsession with all things American, especially movie stars like himself.  Thus, this production is set in a Detroit suburb where a skunk (uninvited neighbor) shows up just as a dinner party thrown by a very label-conscious couple is ending.  It’s a three-hander where Spacey (in a role he played in the US more than 15 years ago) is joined by American actors Mary Stuart Masterson and Steven Weber. As directed by David Grindley, the first act is one long set-up for a violent (and well-choreographed) confrontation in the second.  Though Spacey is a dominating presence on stage, none of this excited or enlightened me.  The Generation-X-filled audience seemed to eat it up.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Gielgud)

Life in a California loony bin was the subject of a 1970s movie that featured a bug-eyed dominating performance by Jack Nicholson as inmate McMurphy and an Academy Award for Louise Fletcher (who thereafter disappeared from the silver screen) as domineering Nurse Ratched.  This time, it was live on stage with movie star Christian Slater as McMurphy and stage actress Frances Barber at Nurse Ratched.  The show was both uproariously funny and at times really touching and much more balanced than the film because Slater was really just one of the crazies and Barber’s autocratic purr was a great foil for all their antics.  The mostly Gen-X audience loved it.  Me too.

The Plough and the Stars (Abbey Theatre at the Barbican)

When you are dealing with a great play, the details of a production seem less important.  Here was a production clearly designed for a proscenium stage plunked down in the vastness of the Barbican stage.  (Attempts to mitigate this situation included piles of junk placed along the sides and front edge of the vast stage.)  But none of this mattered in telling the story of the effects of the 1916 Easter uprising on the occupants of one Dublin tenement, who are on both sides of the political divide.  The always-tragic effects of war on civilians could not have been more clear or more touching.  The cast, directed by Artistic Director of the Abbey Ben Barnes, included such stalwarts as John Kavanagh, Catherine Byrne, Cathy Belton, also Owen McDonnell.  I’ve never seen this O’Casey play before. This production was gripping.

Tejas Verdes (The Gate)

This is a promenade production, a type of entertainment which turns up every so often in the Fringe, where there are no seats.  The audience is invited into an environment and gets to follow the actors around.  Here, the gig, directed by Thea Sharrock, is set in the dark woods of Chile (they give you torches to use to find a place to stand) and consists of a series of monologues about the Disappeareds of the Pinochet era from various points of view.  The actors (all female) delivering these moving testaments include Diana Hardcastle and Gemma Jones.  I can’t say that the disclosures in the text provided any information that I hadn’t read about or seen dramatized before, but how often do you get to stand next to and feel the commitment of the great Ms. Jones?  Well worth standing for 90 minutes.

Wild East (Royal Court)

The Royal Court is such a hip and enjoyable venue in which to see new plays.  Too bad that many of these plays are so vapid.  The latest, by April De Angelis, is one such.  This three-hander in a chic yellow box of a set starts out to be about a job interview of a recent university grad—a nerdy type--by two female executives for a position in Russia.  Over the course of its 90 minutes, it descends into a catfight between ex-lesbian lovers and an explication of “shamanism”.  Duh?  The only reason to see it is the quirky but always interesting Sylvestra Le Touzel.  And even she is not enough.

The Woman in White (Palace)

After a couple of recent dogs (anyone remember Whistle Down the Wind set under a Louisiana highway or The Beautiful Game about a young football (soccer) team), Andrew Lloyd Webber has gone back to Willkie Collins’ Victorian thriller that is quite appropriate to the type of lush musical themes he writes.  And director Trevor Nunn with designer William Dudley have created a production with the most spectacular use of projections and turntables that you’re likely to see for quite a while.  The performances, particularly by Maria Friedman and Jill Paice, are beautifully calibrated.  And there’s even a cameo by the wonderful Edward Petherbridge.  Michael Crawford, the big-name star of the show, is currently “on hiatus” and would be unrecognizable in the padded role of Count Fosco, in any case.  His understudy, Steve Varnom, is able.  I’m no great fan of Lloyd Webber’s shows and didn’t come out humming any of the themes.  But this one is worth catching, if only for the scenery and the terrific female stars.

I love going to the theatre and I don’t really ask for anything much from an individual show—a story, a tune, a performance, a set—just something to enjoy.  In the overwhelming number of cases (especially in London), I find it.  Quite often, the whole package is exciting and, more occasionally, thrilling.

I’ll be writing about going to the theatre in my hometown—New York—for the companion website www.newyorktheatreguide.com starting next week.  Check it out.

(Polly Wittenberg)