“Clybourne Park” by Bruce Norris

at the Royal Court Theatre, Friday 27th August 2010

We often see ourselves as superior to those who have gone before us for being far more open and accepting when it comes to issues of race. Bruce Norris’ wildly funny Clybourne Park forces us to reconsider this mindset and asks us to look at how racist we really are. Dominic Cooke’s production at the Royal Court in its UK premiere leaves us questioning through our laughter why we are not all as morally superior we think we are.

Norris’ play, written as a response to Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin In The Sun, is split clearly in two parts, the first being set in 1959 and the second in 2009 in one house on Clybourne Street, Chicago. In the first half, structured much like a mid-century farce, Russ and Bev (Steffan Rhodri and Sophie Thompson) are in the process of moving out to make way for a young black family. For reasons unknown the house has sold below its market value, leaving many neighbours unhappy. In the second half a young white couple plan to move into and renovate the same house fifty years later and are faced with similar issues. Links are made between families in each time period, thus allowing us to realise that through others both scenarios could be happening simultaneously, even though they are half a century apart (Wibbly-Wobbly-Timey-Wimey).

Although there is a difference of half a century between the two acts, many themes remain constant, thus examining our inability to change. Along with racial stigma, Norris also shows how failure to talk openly about issues of race, gender and painful memories can be violently destructive. In the second half Steve (Martin Freeman) exposes how the word “offense” has become meaningless in the 21st century as political correctness takes hold, a subject also briefly touched upon in 1959.

While these themes are obvious, Norris’ attempt to consider the ghosts of memory in properties falls somewhat flat. We know that no one wishes to live in houses which are associated with death (for proof we need only look to the patch of grass which now grows where Myra Hindley and Ian Brady once lived), but in Clybourne Park this theme is not approached with enough debate. The interesting material which is there is overshadowed by the comedy and other themes surrounding it.

Robert Innes-Hopkins’ design depicts the same house in two strikingly different states either side of the interval. The early version has a lived in but unloved feel, and the second, although with exactly the same layout and fragments of the same wallpaper, is entirely cold and bereft of life, going hand in hand with Paul Constable’s vivid lighting.

Dominic Cooke directs the small ensemble with care, making sure to make each character unique without turning them into charicatures. The same cast performs in each half, and most have their former parts contrasted in the latter. Steffan Rhodri, for example, broods throughout act one as the formidable Russ but is quite altered as the casual builder Dan later in the evening. Martin Freeman is intelligent and eloquent as the modern-day Steve but backward and jumpy as Karl in the fifties. Sarah Goldberg and Lucien Msamati are also impressive and Sophie Thompson, although at times somewhat too melodramatic as Bev, redeems herself in the role of the self-centred lawyer Kathy.

Clybourne Park’s structure means that each part in fact stands alone as a witty take on differences in society. It is together, however, that the different scenes hold power and clever references to the other in each serve to reinforce our understanding. Norris does tackle difficult issues, but in a way which forces us to laugh. Comedy of the year? It could well be.

“Earthquakes In London” by Mike Bartlett

at the Cottesloe Theatre, Thursday 26th August 2010

Young people have always blamed the generation before them for ruining their lives and making life difficult. The current younger generation, however (of which I myself am a part), has it worse. Mike Bartlett’s Earthquakes In London demonstrates the mess our planet is in and the need for rulers of the future to take action now whilst enjoying the life they have. Under the direction of Rupert Goold the play is portrayed in a suitably epic and involving way, and whilst the script is at times in need of trimming we still understand the major points being discussed.

It could be argued that the story is largely irrelevant, that it is simply a vehicle through which Bartlett can explore environmental issues. Of course a narrative is necessary, but it doesn’t on its own depict issues which haven’t been depicted before. Essentially we follow a trio of sisters (Sarah, Freya and Jasmine played with no inhibitions by Lia Williams, Anna Madeley and Jessica Raine respectively), throughout a period of two days in their dysfunctional lives. They each have to deal with problem partners, problem jobs and problems in the world around them. As mentioned above, however, the story of these central characters merely allows access into the world of environmentalism.

The main question Bartlett asks in the play is how best to deal with climate change. We are treated to some wonderful set pieces describing our troubles (a stand-out one being the sisters’ father Robert using his house keeper as an analogous tool), but the most interesting scenes depict situations in which choices can be made to change the world but aren’t. Early on a young Robert is bribed into skewing research to disprove global warming and Sarah (a Lib Dem MP) almost joins forces with a global airline corporation. It is these wrong decisions which are being made daily that are putting our planet in jeopardy. As long as power-holders and money-grabbers keep choosing to “stick their heads in the sand” and ignore the “gathering storm”, there is no hope left.

Although this cause is entirely justified and Bartlett does a sterling job in portraying what is wrong with the current system, he takes up too many pitchforks at once. Quite aside from having a monumental dig at all those who do nothing to help the environment, he also questions the morals over peaceful and non-peaceful protest, whether or not it is right to envisage an apocalypse, the rights of a mother and unborn child, urban freewheeling and even Facebook. It is this vast conglomeration of ideas which makes the play at times hard to follow, causing the production to lose focus.

Use of the absurd in Earthquakes In London should also be questioned. Up to a point many obscure ideas and musical numbers make sense and fit well into the rest of Goold’s adventurous staging, but the moment we see a metaphysical world in which angels exist Bartlett has gone too far. The cause of fighting climate change needs to be addressed but can be done so away from fanciful storytelling. The focus should be on the issue and the drama can be found in that. Deciding to use this other-worldly element does not fit with the rest of the realities on show in the play and adds nothing whatsoever to the drama.

It is Goold’s staging and Miriam Buether’s innovative set design that make the play stand out, however. They do at times take away from the important issues, but generally involve the audience and make them implicit in the action. Buether’s set design turns the Cottesloe into a promenade space, with a long S-shaped bar snaking through the middle and portraying the way society has strayed off our path. When actors make their way into the audience areas we feel a desire to dance and shout along with them, creating the sense of one big party. This is strengthened by Alex Baronowski’s visceral and diverse music and the half-naturalistic, half-symbolistic projections of Jon Driscoll.

As always with Goold’s productions he directs his actors perfectly. The ensemble all create fine performances, but standing out are Williams, conveying the irritability of a tired MP, and Raine, portraying the wild frivolity of youth. Anna Madeley as Freya holds the play together while her character falls apart. Geoffrey Streatfield and Tom Goodman-Hill as confused husbands also impress, and Bryony Hannah as 14-year-old Peter, with some of the best lines in the play, is constantly captivating.

Earthquakes In London is an important play which tackles important issues, and in doing so is incredibly ambitious. It is this ambition, however, which sometimes lets the text falter, suggesting that Bartlett should have taken a closer look at more specific issues. Goold’s direction however allows the script to soar and means that this production should not be missed. Hopefully it will mark the beginning of a tidal wave of serious theatre grappling climate change.

“The Impressionist” by Hari Kunzru

It isn’t hard to find a coming-of-age novel these days. Indeed it never really has been - there are probably many on your bookshelf at home. What Kunzru’s first novel The Impressionist does, however, which has not been really achieved before, is to set out this theme under the guise of an epic novel.

Written episodically, the narrative tells the story of the half-Indian, half-British Pran Nath, conceived after a one night stand in a cave. The first few sections of the book see the young Pan trying to understand his seemingly disingenuous upbringing, being rejected by his father and ostracised by members of his local community. In the latter half of the novel Pran journeys to England to study at Oxford. It is here he is able to find himself.

The normal adolescent feelings of estrangement and confusion are amplified by the fact that Pran is not completely accepted wherever he goes. In India, he is too rich to be walking along the slums, while Britain is far too pompous compared to his humble beginnings. A particularly funny episode involves a preview reading of a new book by an up-and-coming poet. The company exemplifies high English society at the time, and Pran is able to see right through the falseness of this society. The poetry being read is clunking and affected; Kunzru captures the absurdity of the situation with style.

The main narrative of the novel focusses on growing up, but the episodic nature of the telling allows for Kunzru to explore notions of identity. Each section is titled by the various different personas which Pran inhabits throughout the course of his journey to adulthood. After seeing the death of a young Englishman, Jonathan Bridgeman, in India, he takes on the young man’s name and reputation on his entry into the UK. Pran can still not shake off who he really is, not matter how many soirees and seminars he attends. Kunzru suggests that it is easy to change our outward persona, but that we can never change who we are fundamentally. Nevertheless, although this is often seen as a negative notion, Jonathan is actually able to understand who he is and want to be through his apparent deception.

Ideas of colonialism are approached throughout, but never smother the narrative and character development. Instead they offer a device that neatly frames the story. We begin in a wild landscape and end in one. Birth and death occurs in each, and it takes Pran’s journey into the wilderness for him to understand who he really is. It is this final epiphany which makes The Impressionist a coming of age novel and not a colonial one.

Kunzru’s style can at times be cliched, but is on the whole poetic and beautifully simple. The language develops as the protagonist does, sometimes using high rhetoric and elsewhere showing stark reality through blunt phrases. It is Kunzru’s wit, however, that is most engaging, and makes The Impressionist a delight to read. Another coming-of-age novel may seem a bit much, but this one is more than justified.

“Welcome to Thebes” by Moira Buffini

at the Olivier Theatre, Wednesday 18th August 2010

Sceptics often question why we return to classic stories from history time and time again. They say that they do not have much relevance in the modern world and seem out-of-date. In Welcome To Thebes, Moira Buffini shows us that these arguments are unfounded and that legends, after a little modernisation, reflect the extremes of human action acutely. Richard Eyre’s powerful production shows the relationship between power and democracy, between war and peace.

Euridice (Nikki Amuka-Bird), has just been elected by the Thebans following a crippling war, leaving her to cope with famine along with her female-heavy cabinet ministers. Theseus (David Harwood) arrives from Athens to try to make deals with Euridice, but isn’t trusted by many in Thebes. His tyrannical way of ruling goes against the supposed democracy of those living in Thebes, and he causes much grief during his stay.

Buffini brings the familiar tale into the 21st Century by transposing the events into a nondescript African nation. Parallels are drawn with the Liberia of Charles Taylor, ruled without pity. The ongoing debate between the people of Athens and the people of Thebes, where those of the former aren’t prepared to give aid to the latter, mirrors the conversations which we must assume occur between various nations all over the world. Peace is far more fragile than war, and under ‘weak’ leadership it is even more likely to fall to chaos.

Amuka-Bird leads the ensemble with confidence, portraying a strong Euridice who, like any human, simply can’t cope with the pressure she is put under, especially with various familial problems. Harewood as the powerful Theseus is volatile, being pushed to breaking points at many times over the course of his stay in Thebes. Chuck Iwuji as the once-admired Prince Tydeus is a man slowly falling from grace, and Rakie Ayola as his wife Pargeia is perhaps the strongest woman in the play, although with amoral intentions. Performances are involved across the board, injecting into the play the passion it requires.

Tim Hatley’s design, the courtyard of a Grecian palace, is strangely beautiful, held in a state of limbo after the war, and is lit with tenderness by Neil Austin. Stephen Warbeck’s music is largely influenced by tribal rhythms, but slows down at times to soaring ballads, enhancing the journey we are taken on by the plot.

At times this production can seem to lack focus, being set in a hybrid world, but this largely adds to the disorder of the rest of the play. Buffini’s script never soars too much but stays down to earth, and Eyre manages to pull out some truly electrifying moments. Welcome To Thebes shows that ancient myths and legends still have a place in the modern world. Some argue that extremes found in Greek tragedy do not happen in real life. They are wrong.

“Romeo and Juliet” by William Shakespeare

at The Courtyard Theatre, Tuesday 18th August 2010

One thing which puts Rupert Goold above many other directors in the game at the moment is his ability to mix music and sound into productions seamlessly, making sure they are justified and create dramatic tension. In this production of Romeo and Juliet, Goold incorporates many tableaux and movement pieces, but unlike Michael Boyd’s recent Antony and Cleopatra, they do not take away but in fact add to the words already on the page.

As most reviewers have commented, Goold incorporates a great deal of religious imagery and references in this production. Whilst this creates some striking visual images and allows for deep, rumbling music, this does not seem to be the main aspect which differentiates this Romeo and Juliet from others. What makes this special is the performances from Sam Troughton as Romeo and Mariah Gale as Juliet. Their roles have been seemingly subverted; the usual ‘innocent children’ interpretation has been swapped for one which makes the two leads far more rational. Their eyes do not meet on the dance floor, but Troughton makes a decision that Juliet is a girl who might just satisfy his lustful feelings.

Although it may sound odd that the word lust is being used in a review of Romeo and Juliet, it is this raw emotion that makes this production more special. The famous speeches are not spoken in earnest tones or whispered tongues, but frankly and openly. Troughton and Gale capture the essence of what it is to be a teenager perfectly, dressed in hoodies and tracksuit bottoms, trying to always get one up on their parents. This Romeo and this Juliet were not made for the doublet-clad world of their parents.

The rest of the company, dressed in Elizabethan attire, prove that ensemble work is definitely the way forward. Jonjo O’Neill is an erratic Mercutio, and Richard Katz brings a crazed tyranny to the role of Lord Capulet. Noma Dumezweni as the Nurse and Forbes Masson as Friar Lawrence both take control of the play with guts, guiding us through the twists and turns of the relationship between the two families.

Tom Scutt’s iron and stone set lends an ethereal air to the play, and the striking projections on the back wall allow us to move from emotion to emotion thoughtlessly. Light and sound by Howard Harrison and Adam Cork respectively brings the text viscerally into the 21st Century and choreography by Georgina Lamb gives the entire production energy and fire.

This is what we expect from Romeo and Juliet. Whilst there are aspects of this production which focus on love, it takes the opinion that Shakespeare wrote about passion in all forms, and how it causes us to act irrationally. The semi-coup-de-theatre at the end, as the heads of the two families enter in modern dress, suggesting a dream-world, shows that the action of the play could just as easily take place now as when it was first written. Goold’s Romeo and Juliet will not be forgotten in a hurry.

The USA: A joy to travel across, but a bitch to blog about

America the beautiful, from sea to shining sea. Katherine Lee Bates pretty much knocked the nail on the head when she wrote those words, though whether she experienced a coast-to-coast trip for herself I don’t know. The past three weeks of my life have been spent travelling across the USA by rail and coach. Starting off in New York and finishing up in San Francisco, it was certainly a trip not to be missed. Rather than being the normal run-of-the-mill holiday diary, this blog post intends to simply draw upon various observations I made over the course of my twenty-one day trip about the American way of life and their glorious country.  

Firstly, let’s start with the way in which we managed to traverse the vast space of land they call North America. Having booked the trip through Great Rail Journeys, this naturally turned out to be using the complex American train system. It seems that the journeys to and from Denver run, on average, five hours late at least once a week, and that to get from Los Angeles to San Fransisco you will usually be delayed by at least one hour. This is because Amtrak trains are at the mercy of the various private companies that own the sprawling interstate railroads and they value cargo over people. Amtrak owns only three per cent of its lines in the North East of the country, meaning that the rest of the time it has no say in scheduling whatsoever. It is not unusual for some trains to be almost a whole day late. And to think we complain about our system! What bugs me, however, is that the American people are, on the whole, completely apathetic about the whole situation. They don’t campaign for government-controlled rail highways or even ask for more accurate timetables to be posted. Perhaps this shows the English temperament to be impatient, but my guess is that many Americans are scared of anything that is state-funded.  

Ironically, the smaller, older services such as the Grand Canyon Railway and the Silverton-Durango railroad (which is powered by steam), run to within minutes of the advertised times. If these trains were delayed by the same amount of time, it wouldn’t matter, because they wind through extraordinary landscapes of sweeping plains and rolling hills respectively.  

The Durango-Silverton Railroad

 Having already touched upon state-ownership, we can now move onto politics. Not on the boring system, mind you, but the general feeling amongst the American population of the current Government. Seconds after stepping on our tour bus in Chicago (proper tourists), our guide exclaimed “Let me get something straight. We don’t like Obama. We view Obama like you view Tony Blair. He’s wasting our money and making our country bankrupt.” What striked me most about this comment was the sheer generalisation. In our eyes, Obama is like a God. Can’t the American people see what a good job he’s doing? The American system won’t even allow for his changes to ever really bear fruit as the mid-term elections soon to be held will mean it will be even harder for the executive to make changes. The fact is, however, that this comment was false. Not all Americans hate Obama, just like not all Brits hate Tony Blair. Granted, he has his faults, but to others he is offering them the lifeline they need. Moving further West, however, liberal ideas start to come into play. Our conductor on the Durango Railroad introduced himself by explaining “I like Obama. I’m not too sure about David Cameron,” to which, naturally, we all cheered.  

What is most peculiar, however, is not this split, but the fact that Americans truly believe they are a democratic nation. Washington, we are told, is “the home of democracy”. The political system in the UK is a long way from perfect, but being able to choose only from two parties can surely never be fair. The fact that the system is split into Executive, Legislative and Judiciary branches means that none can have a real impact on what happens in government. Still we are told, however, that Americans have complete liberty when voting in the elections (even though only 50% of them bother).  

Washington, the home of "democracy"

 This allows for an easy segue to a short discussion of the media in the States. The state of broadcasting over the pond is yet another reason we must give to the coalition against cutting the license fee. All day we are only able to watch ten minutes of a programme before being subjected to dull and lengthy advert breaks, the only refuge from which is the slightly less tedious and cheesy sitcom or predictable drama. What is worse, however, is the dozens of news channels spewing their right-wing views all over the schedules. It’s no wonder that Americans are notoriously conservative when this is what the rest of the world sees. The channels and presenters are only there to protect their own interests. Glenn Beck is a figurehead of this monstrosity, but he’s not the only one. There is absolutely no debate, and the news stories are carefully picked so that they put Democrats and Liberals in the worst possible light. Even Sky News isn’t as bad as the most liberal of these channels. During my stay, the top news stories have been a proposed mosque near ground serious (outrageous apparently) and the ruckus concerning Proposition 8 in California (according to the coverage marriage is only viable if one man and one woman are involved). Add to those stories an unhealthy dose of climate-change-denying and you pretty much get the picture. It’s such a shame because the papers and TV does not reflect the general feeling. Among the turgidness there are a few gems, such as The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, but still, God love the BBC.  

San Francisco, where the debate about Prop 8 rages

 Although the state of the arts is not quite as bad as the media, going to America allows for sobering thoughts about the fate of the creative sector in our country. I must commend first the fact that two of the three art museums I visited were free (the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington D.C. and the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago), but this does not excuse the blatant corporate advertising in brochures and on walls. Painted on every wall in San Francisco’s De Young Museum is a name, which serves as a big pat on the back for those philanthropists who are fortunate enough to be in the position of having enough money to give to the arts. It is also lamentable that much of the art on display was not of the challenging ilk which we have become accustomed to in Europe. It all seems somewhat traditionalist and we can almost imagine the named altruists standing back and admiring their selection of paintings. Granted, there are some beautiful works on display, but it is surely telling that the best art on show is on loan from European exhibits; America doesn’t invest a great deal of money in their own artists.  

Reassuringly the population in San Francisco is treated to the free Stern Grove festival every year and in New York is the Shakespeare in the Park festival. Whilst both are naturally vehicles for corporations to get their brand seen, they do allow for the general public to see high-end art for free. The only criticism would be that these performances are again quite traditionalist; the line-up at the Stern Grove includes opera, country music and, whilst I was there, ballet. In Washington D.C. there is a free concert every day for free at the Kennedy Center. These are broadcast online also, allowing anyone who wishes to view the talent on display. More avant-garde would be welcomed, but at the moment the population of these cities have something to look forward to every summer.  Lucky sods.

Ballet at Stern Grove

Now to move onto my area of expertise; the wonderful world of theatre. While US theatre may not be as vibrant as ours, it is a long way from being a shambles. Broadway is more profitable than the West End and new plays open every year to sell-out houses. The Denver Performing Arts Complex has 10’000 seats shared amongst its 10 theatres and even smaller towns such as Durango have lively performance spaces. The Woolly Mammoth Theatre in D.C. offers whole seasons of challenging new plays every year in it’s chic playhouse. Free programmes are handed out and front-of-house staff are surprisingly accommodating. The shows which I saw were enjoyable experiences, even if they weren’t groundbreaking. If you know where to look, there is a large experimental theatre scene and exciting ideas being performed to audiences every day. The problem is, however, that many people don’t know where to look. Either that or they don’t want to. Some are more than happy to sit through the mundanity that is Wicked or the pointlessness of American Idiot for the sixteenth time, but don’t realise that there is a world of theatre out there which will open their minds to ideas they would never have previously thought of. Government subsidy allows this talent to be showcased to a wider audience and encourages audiences to try new things. It also allows for cheaper ticket prices and more focus on the creative teams rather than producers.  

The lights of Times Square

 Reading through this post thus far, it may seem that I have a very negative view of America. That is not the case. Whilst many aspects American culture sat oddly against my own views, this doesn’t matter when faced with the sheer beauty found from East to West and the welcoming nature of most of the population. In New York we are surrounded by skyscrapers and lights. We are constantly told there is no city quite like the Big Apple, but it is only when we get there than we understand why. There are few sights more beautiful than Manhattan at night-time from the tranquility of Central Park.  

Night falls on Manhattan

 Chicago also has a stunning skyline, and we are fortunate enough in the home city of Al Capone to have a full view of the city; something impossible in New York unless water is crossed.  

The view of the Downtown Chicago from the opposite side of the harbour

Even Denver is a very special city. All along the main street are free buses and free wi-fi, and pianos are dotted everywhere for our enjoyment. With restaurants and bars overflowing into the streets, it has an almost European feel. The multitude of bookshops and theatres means that anyone even remotely arty will feel truly at home here. San Francisco, built on hills which rise and fall like Nick Clegg’s approval rating, shows both the sheer will and stupidity of man. Walking along a quiet neighbourhood and turning round to see a street which stretches right from the top of the hill to the sea is an extremely satisfying experience. Even RMS Queen Mary shows how far we’ve come in our short time on earth. 

The thing about America, however, is that even though the very best in engineering is visible everywhere, it is the work of nature that is most impressive, reminding us that we will never beat the simple power of the Earth’s movements. The Rocky Mountains and Monument Valley stretch on as far as the eye can see, and as soon as we think we’ve seen all there is to see another mountain or butte pops out of nowhere, providing us with yet another obstacle. It is the Grand Canyon, however, that everyone remembers best. One of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World, it is perhaps Mother Nature’s greatest achievement. I’m no poet, and so have decided to use a quote to demonstrate the magnificence of this quiet spot in Arizona. 

“The wonders of the Grand Canyon cannot be adequately represented in symbols of speech, nor by speech itself. The resources of the graphic art are taxed beyond their powers in attempting to portray its features. Language and illustration combined must fail.” 

Although John Wesley Powell’s quote is slightly paradoxical, it does convey just how much the Canyon inspires awe. A camera does not do the wonder justice, but here’s my attempt anyway, taken from above the Grand Canyon from a plane: 

Like a beautiful scar on the desert

Just as no photo can do justice to the Grand Canyon, no blog post can do justice to the USA. Here is just a taster of the America I experienced, and it will be like no one elses. The USA has something to offer for everyone, and shows the best and worst of mankind. As with all the best things in life, you have to try it for yourself to understand.

“The Tavern” by George M. Cohan

at the Henry Strater Theatre, Durango, on 1st August 2010

We are often told in the UK that Americans don’t get pantomime. Why do we boo and hiss characters on stage? Is overacting really necessary? Durango Melodrama’s production of George M.Cohan’s The Tavern, however, under the direction of Bryan Rasmussen, proves that Americans are in fact perfectly at home in this situation, and that in fact they pull it off better than us.

The plot is billed as “uncomplicated”, but this isn’t really true. During a stormy night, various strangers turn up at a mid-western tavern, some of whom have been robbed and others shot at. This naturally leads to some very farcical happenings, all of which is presided over by The Vagabond, who comments on the action for the benefit of the audience. Needless to say, everyone lives happily ever after and we are treated to many great gags.

The Tavern is not your average melodrama. Whilst we have the traditional setting of a small public space, the characters are not of the usual stock. In melodrama we normally see a hero, a heroine, a villian, a parent and a clown. In this piece, only the parent and the clown are clear; the would-be hero is effeminate and cowardly, and we never see the villain of the piece do anything truly villainous. This is refreshing – far too often in melodrama the stock characters hinder any true debate to occur or tension to take hold.

This is where this company has surpassed any British expectations for melodrama. For once, we see true narrative drive and some real character development. The story keeps us guessing and yet never gets tedious. This is obviously helped by the talent on show. Danny Blaylock does a brilliant turn as the confused, Lenny-from-Of-Mice-And-Men-like hired man, and Amanda Musso as Virginia the governer’s daughter is at once sexy and innocent. Dominating the show, however, is K.C. Sullivan as the Vagabond. Sullivan has clearly taken inspiration from the harlequin of commedia del’arte, and whilst the other characters take themselves completely seriously, he is able to see the true farce of the situation and is not afraid to share this wonder with us. He even directs a scene at one point, saying he “never heard the line spoken so well”. He is the vessel through which the story is told, and we cannot help but go with him.

It is also through the protagonist that one of the main themes is expressed – why aren’t we able to see that the life which we lead is actually full of “comic situations” and may “turn out to be a farce after all”? He shows that we all need a link between the internal and external, between our involved and distant selves.

Perhaps the only criticism would be that the ending feels too easy, but in actual fact the final denoument could be argued to be wholly satisfying, explaining past events and finishing the play off in a clean fashion. In any case, this small oversight is more than made up for by the vaudeville showcase available for free after the show itself, performed by the very actors we have just seen. My hat comes off to the whole ensemble, who worked together effortlessly and who all put their all into both parts of the evening.

This show is another example of a rallying call in Ameirca to British writers and theatremakers to make good melodrama. It doesn’t have to be tacky and predictable. If done right, it can actually be an extremely rewarding night out. Let’s try and take up the baton during this year’s panto season. For once, we should be striving to create real narrative intrigue and carefully crafted characters.