Twelfth Night - ACT (Little Theatre - Dunstable)

****

I suppose if I wanted to be provocative I should say that I preferred some other production of this play. That comment got me into enough trouble the other week. Not for the first time, mouth shot out of theatrical blocks somewhat quicker than brain. Her indoors has changed my pills and sellotape in the vain hope of reform. Wouldn’t be fair with this one though, as my only experience of Twelfth Night is from the old box in the living room. Dazzling performances if I remember, but I was as clueless at the end as I was at the beginning. TV is a terrible medium for attention spans. And Shakespeare’s comedies rank someway below his history plays for me. Reckon I said that in the bar afterwards but no one, not even director Alan Clarke, produced any sellotape.

Not that he needed to. I had a few caveats about ACT’s latest theatrical offering but for ambition and clarity I could not fault it. This company don’t take easy options but on a simple and effective walled garden set, no cumbersome scene changes, they allowed the text to do the work. Edwardian folk set in the land of Illyria (no I’ve never heard of it either) weaved a complex comic web in a clear narrative flow. Intricate couplings were a little low key but I was firmly seduced by the outrageous secondary characters thrust centre stage by Shakespeare’s script. Dogberry is my favourite character in Much Ado About Nothing. This one has three or four, equally rich in fun. An enjoyable evening was effortlessly lifted by comic actors firing on all their inventive cylinders.

Amongst the best of them was Malcolm Farrar’s superb performance as the enigmatic Malvolio. Played here as an elderly solicitor come family retainer, Mr Farrar etched out every inch and sniff of a comic character tinged with melancholy and misunderstanding. Multi layered and beautifully precise, his interpretation of the misguided lover to Olivia was an absolute joy in lettered word and action. Mr Farrar wasn’t the only acting star on this stage. Adam Lloyd Jones was an equally superb Sir Toby Belch, rich in sonorous tones and vocal variety, and James Trapp a beautifully observed Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Mr Trapp’s puzzled facial expressions skilfully displayed a consummate silly ass foil to the bumptious and hedonistic Sir Toby and both actors combined in physical and verbal comedy of the highest order. The grossness of one and the fragility of the other teamed with dramatic finesse.

I was also strikingly taken with Miranda Larson’s excellent playing of the mischievous maid Maria. Miss Larson has eyes so expressive and sparkling I reckon she takes them out and polishes them every night. Whatever the trick, this was a playful character completely in her comfort zone. I have always admired Miss Larson, even when she slightly disappointed. Here she was on the top of her considerable form. Steven Clarke was also on top vocal and singing form as Olivia’s fool Feste. But here comes my first caveat. Strong as it was it lacked a quintessential lightness to simultaneously mask and point the intelligent devilry. Only my opinion of course, but much as I admired Mr Clarke’s singing, especially his rounding of the play at the end, he is an actor better suited to meaty dramatic roles.

I am in danger here of overlooking the central plot. Happened before. Once did a review of a Becket play and never mentioned the actor playing Godot. I blame Shakespeare. Cross dressing and mistaken twins are part of his staple comic diet and in this one he constantly upstages them. So it says a lot that Megan Clarke made her mark as the dignified and beautiful Olivia. Loved by Orsino (nice cameo from Alan Clarke) but with her passions mistakenly directed elsewhere. I didn’t totally buy into that passion. Emily French’s Viola/ Cesario was convincingly boyish and shows great promise, but lacked the maturity to totally flesh out her role. I reckon Shakespeare’s boys, they played girls playing boys in his day, might have had the same problem. But Miss Clarke rose above the mayhem with poise and dignity. And, boy, this silly play (Pepys said this on its first showing) had lots of mayhem.

And that mayhem is what I particularly liked. Some of the smaller roles lacked the finesse of the principals, a notable exception being Richard Alexander’s imposing Antonio, and overall sexual ambiguity was generally lacking. I reckon I have a dirty mind. But if the evening was slightly unbalanced it was also a jolly piece of fun. Alan Clarke’s laudable ACT Company gave us another taste of Shakespeare and, beautifully costumed and with some great comic acting, I understood it all. And that’s a first with this play. I shall say so, loudly, at my next theatrical meeting of the Shakespeare society in Ladbrokes. If they take off the sellotape. Roy Hall

Calendar Girls - Dunstable Rep (Full Review)

***

Personally I have never understood the fuss made about nudity, makes sense in the current steamy weather, but it is clearly a big deal for some. And very unbritish. Which probably explains why a group of Women’s Institute ladies collectively dropping their Yorkshire knickers twenty years ago, caused such a stir. Tits and bums replaced Jam and Jerusalem on fund raising calendars and worldwide media frenzy ensued. Tim Firth’s Calendar Girls tells the real small scale story, liberally laced with pathos and humour. Death, sunflowers, and gritty warmth manfully cloak an essentially simple tale of village folk. Too episodic and formulaic to be a great play but one in which it is impossible not to be moved. Emotional and historical baggage had a feel good factor worthy of bottling for any village hall fete.

At the risk of sounding like an unwelcome adjudicator at a private knees-up I have to say that, for me, Angela Goss’s latest Rep production only partially pulled it off. She had some cracking performances, none more so than Dee Lovelock’s feisty florist Chris and Annalise Carter-Brown’s repressed Ruth. Miss Lovelock was sharp and pithy in everything she did and Miss Carter-Brown, playing against type, beautifully etched a mouse that eventually roared. But some scenes seemed under paced and/or over rehearsed. Take your pick. The freshness of verbal sunflowers was missing. On a set that leaves all the work to the actors, can’t do much with a village community hall, you need your cast to fire full tilt on all their collective cylinders. Here, in the heat, sparks only intermittently flew. I enjoyed some well crafted portrayals but I wasn’t grabbed by the throat. Given the full houses, the complimentary water and the ecstatic audiences, I now, no doubt, will be.

Susan Young turned in a very sensitive portrayal as the lady who lost a husband (a gentle cameo from Phil Baker) and found a calendar, and Katy Eliott (upmarket sexy golf widow) and Barbara Morton (belligerent but refined teacher) provided rich humour in their clearly shaped characterisations. Completing the Miss of the Month sextet, Deborah Cheshire served up a rebellious vicar’s daughter. Aggressive in attitude and attire, more vocal variety would have enhanced her performance. Told you this was pseudo adjudication. Well if it is I shall leave some of the peripheral roles alone. I liked Kenton Harding in the thankless role of Rod the flower man and Julie Hanns looked every inch a cloned beautician. But the towering performance from a cast member who didn’t shed drawers was Jo Collett’s status conscious Marie. Her Women’s Institute Chairman treated Yorkshire as something she had trodden in and constantly tried to shake off. Along with an unhappy past in, emphasise the last syllable please, Cheshire.

My last syllable is that I admired Alan Goss’s clever set change to a Yorkshire hill and the sunflower lighting of the theatre walls at the end. And I felt for the man who never got to see the real flowers grow. But you can be emotionally moved without being theatrically lifted. Flesh and feelings were skilfully revealed in this calendar but the separate pictures never totally gelled. Roy Hall

Calendar Girls (Preview) - Dunstable Rep

On a steamy hot night the full house audience at the Rep’s latest production could have been forgiven for stripping off. That they did not follow the bra waving antics of the Calendar Girls cast was to be welcomed. Nudity, sunflowers and death abounded in Tim Firth’s famous play on an unconventional slice of Yorkshire grit. Feisty florist Chris, a super performance from Dee Lovelock, leads the Jam and Jerusalem girls and she gets some good support, especially from Annalise Carter-Brown as the self-effacing and knicker resistant Ruth. Angela Goss directs the pathos and humour, and in an uneven large cast, Jo Collett’s status conscious WI Chairman Marie was outstanding.

 

Runs to Saturday 20^th July 2013 – Dunstable Rep Theatre – 7.45pm

Hay Fever (Queen Mother Theatre - Hitchin)

*****

I am terribly well behaved, so my mother said. Always do as I am told. Listen to authority I do. Directors, lots of ‘em, regularly earwig me and say ‘whatever you do, don’t mention the whatever.’ Flat trombone player, fat dancer, actor wearing odd socks. Whatever. Don’t mention it. So I don’t. Except obliquely. A little hint, the odd word, a slight nudge somewhere in the text. Because although terribly well behaved, I am also mischievous. So my mother said. And this one had a funny mirror. But I won’t mention it.

What I will mention is that the characters in Noel Coward’s Hay Fever were terribly ill behaved. At least the family was. So their mother said. And she was as bad, if not worse. The upper class Bliss family are so self centred and egocentric they are almost on a separate planet to normal mortals. In their closed theatrical world, playwright husband and actress wife, they infuriate and bemuse unwary guests in equal proportions. And whether play acting at life or merely playing games they and their precious children give no quarter. Subscribe to their rules or flounder. Underlying cruelty twisted, with Cowards clever pen, to super high comedy. If you do it right.

And boy, this lot did. Under Nicki Pope’s superb direction the Queen Mother Theatre gave me one of the classiest and pleasing productions since I started blogging. For pace, timing, characterisation, set and costumes it oozed quality throughout. Practically every scene, especially the madcap wordgame, zinged with precision and clarity. I made no notes. I did not need to. This lot gobsmacked for acting skills. Natalie Gordon was an insufferably majestic Judith Bliss, ageing and shallow actress in equal proportions. I would have liked her taller but you can’t have everything. And she packed an incredible punch in everything she did. Charles Plester, equally insufferable husband, beautifully served up the best sort of ham. Sort of a cross between Robert Morley face and Noel Coward voice. A lesser actor would have destroyed it. Mr Plester pulled it off with style.

This revolting couple were well matched by their equally revolting children, Simon and Sorel. Beautifully attired in twenties style and with crisp and affected voices you could bottle and sell at John Lewis. Paul Wade played Simon Bliss with energetic verve and affectation and Laura Eason matched him all the way as a sibling who knew her place in life. Firmly at the top. Their interchanges electrified and their playacting with Mama in reprises of one of her theatrical turkeys was an absolute joy. It is hardly surprising that this dysfunctional quartet was shepherded by an ageing and reluctant maid with the diplomatic skills of an arthritic piranha. Clara the maid was Mrs Bliss’s theatre dresser and in Barbie Gardiner’s lovely cameo that is what she still is. In demeanour and voice Miss Gardiner conveyed looking after families, especially this one, was best done with electrified barbed wire fencing.

But however scintillating and clever the Bliss family are, Hay Fever needs those unfortunate weekend houseguests. They create oodles of romantic permutations, all totally unbelievable, and a semblance of normality in the human condition. Or most of them do. Neglect them, in casting or characterisation, and the play would stall or at least stutter. Nicki Pope is no mug. She roped in a classy quartet who etched out some beautifully individual portrayals. Becky Leonard as Myra Arundel, the vamp with the sexual shrimping net, probably took the edge because of her magnificent costumes and nicking the only taxi but the others were up there with her. Greg Jones was a nicely judged gormless boxer, Chloe Maddox an excellent nervous ingénue, and Doug Brooker an effectively boring diplomat. Mr Brooker’s suit looked slightly ill fitting, thereby demoting his status, but that is my only nitpick in a nine star cast which constantly fired on all cylinders.

In the interest of balance, I do get read by lots of societies you know, I should now completely tear apart the set, the lighting, and the sound. Can’t. Loved the set (Rosemary Bianchi), especially the realistic back garden. Loved the sound, especially the realistic rain. And I am sure I heard bacon sizzling in the breakfast scene. My imagination often gets the better of me. And loved the lighting, except the inexplicable changes on the landing stairs. Perhaps Judith Bliss insisted on it. But most of all I loved these bright young and not so young things from the nineteen twenties. Captured in consummate style by Miss Pope and her team. Even if none of them could see themselves in the perplexing pseudo mirror. Damn. I said I wouldn’t mention it. Told you I was mischievous. Ask my mother. Roy Hall

 

 

Hay Fever - Queen Mother Theatre (Hitchin) - Preview

It is said that Noel Coward knocked out Hay Fever in three days after spending a weekend as the house guest of an insufferably eccentric American actress and her playwright husband. If they were half as madly egocentric as the Bliss family he subsequently created, the young Mr Coward must have had a torrid time. Audiences loved it and still do to this day. In Nicki Pope’s splendid Queen Mother Theatre production it is easy to see why. Characters clash and zing with effortless Cowardesque aplomb and breathtaking pace and timing. Natalie Gordon and Charles Plester lead a virtually impeccable cast, including Barbie Gardiner’s super curmudgeonly maid, in a presentation that oozed class from every pore. First blogging visit. First rate theatre. Roy Hall

Runs to Saturday 29^th June (Queen Mother Theatre, Hitchin. – 7.45pm)

Full review to follow

A Chorus Line (Oaklands College-Welwyn)

On reflection I should have seen both performances of Oakland College’s showcase for its drama students. Would have been worth it, as the A Chorus Line I popped in on in Welwyn was pretty good. It’s an ideal vehicle for individual talents, lots of rewarding cameos, and simple to stage with a minimum of fuss and cost. With thirty odd performers director David Wilson and choreographer Victoria Markham, the teachers, cleverly divide them into two groups and most get their chance to dazzle on one or other night. I took in Real Arts Theatre Company on Thursday for personal reasons. So, apologies to those who zinged on Tuesday (Slapstick Arts) and were fillers on Thursday. As I say, with hindsight I should have seen both nights. But with hindsight I would back more winners. Opticians sell lots of glasses but none for that sort of vision. Gap in the market somewhere methinks.

Whatever sort of specs I was wearing I would have been blind not to recognise some seriously impressive talent on show, especially in effortless and consummate dancing. (Don’t you just love these seamless blogging links?) Whatever my thoughts on individual singing or acting, this lot, or most of them, danced with warming balletic grace. I take my hat off to both them and Miss Markham. You don’t get such dancing on the amateur stage. Connor McSweeney (Mike) was outstanding in the I Can Do That number but a few others were up there with him. And musically the company (Musical Director-Maureen Roche) gave us a strong opening with I Hope I Get It and a pretty good closing One. I have heard the latter sung better but rarely with such dancing precision. A real Chorus line.

Individually Danielle Field (Val) impressed for a vibrant Dance Ten, Looks Three, coping well with the slight hiatus to her Tits and Ass number, and Alice Smithson (Diana) put a lot of emotion into a pleasing rendition of Nothing. But the outstanding individual number of the evening was Roz Farmer (Kristine) and Calum Brooker (Al) for a sharp and scintillating Sing! Interplay between the two nerdy newly marrieds was razor sharp and Miss Farmer was exceptionally good for the variety of emotions she packed into one song. Victoria Burrough did a solid job in the key role of Cassie, lost love and lost stardom, but lacked authority and status. I reckon it was the girly dress because she sang and danced her The Music and The Mirror number very well. It’s my age folks. That and the influence of the film.

In acting terms the three outstanding performances of the evening were Hector Hadley as hard-bitten musical director Zach, Helen Abbott as the ageing sassy Sheila, and Bryan Fawcett as the troubled homosexual Paul. All these performances were rich in tone, variety, light and shade, and pace. Everything an actor needs if he is to progress. The scenes between Sheila and Zach zinged for precision of delivery and excellent timing and were a personal acting highlight and Mr Fawcett touched every heart with a sensitive monologue on his decline to the bottom of the theatrical pile. I have seen these three young performers before and, believe me, they are very good.

So all in all a pretty good evening and their teacher folks can be pretty proud. Given the resources it would be nice to see them do this as a full blown show with all the production values you need to sell it to Joe Public. The talent is there. Even the flouncy reject at the beginning made her mark. She left beautifully and acidly, whoever she was. My specs, foresight and hindsight combined in dusty lenses, spotted that. They also spotted that a lot of supportive folks turned up. Genuinely, it was well deserved. Real Arts gave us a bloody good evening for four quid. Pensioners who rage at the young, but not the theatrically talented, appreciate that. Means more money for glasses.  Roy Hall

Griffin Players - Whistle Down the Wind

Not being a fan of the Library Theatre these days I often miss out on some cracking productions. So I am told. But I have my little helpers. Here is one. Welcome guest reviewer Hilary Bell. Roy Hall.

One might describe Whistle Down The Wind as a simple moral tale with some catchy tunes, another Lloyd Webber classic; hard to resist but requiring strong performances to bring it to life.  The Griffin Players have achieved just that.  Standout performances from leads Paul Ramsey and Bethany McLeish are ably backed up by other members of the cast, in particular the youngsters.  Ruby Thorne as Brat and James Haxell as Poor Baby are wonderfully believable whilst the children's ensemble will tug at your heartstrings from the off.  Occasional technical hitches and odd set decisions aside, director Julia Fraser’s vision of the piece is clear, simple and well communicated and her musical direction impeccable.  In short, a production well worth the ticket price and not to be missed!  Hilary Bell   

 

Runs to Saturday 15th June (Library Theatre - Luton)